Surviving The Apocalypse
by ApolloIsTooAwesome
Summary: A zombie apocalypse has hit the Earth. There is nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. There is nowhere that is safe. The countries that remain must put aside their differences and work together if they're going to have even the slightest chance of survival - but will everyone make it out alive, or must the weaker die in order for the strong to live? USUK, GerIta and mentions of Spamano.
1. Desperation

**Before you start reading, thanks for picking this story! I only discovered Hetalia a few days ago, and I loved it so much I just had to write about it xD I hope you like it.**

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_Day 4_

A loud growl broke the eerie silence of the small villa, and Feliciano put a small hand on his stomach, groaning quietly. It had been days since he had last eaten, and his next meal was as likely to appear as he was going to wake up and hate pasta - in other words, he wouldn't be eating for a while. In fact, he'd be lucky to ever eat again. He wouldn't dare go outside to scavenge food while those _things_ were around, so he was trapped inside the house until either someone came for him, if anyone was still alive, or he eventually starved to death. He'd dehydrate first, at least, which would finish him a few days before the lack of food did. Even now he was down to his last litre of water - after that there were only bottles of old wine that he saved for special occasions. He had decided that if he was still trapped by the time the water ran out he would drink every bottle of wine and hope that it dehydrated him even more and he died while drunk - or maybe his drunken self would go outside and it'd all be over in a few minutes. Feliciano shuddered at the thought of those creatures outside tearing at his flesh. He didn't know what they were, only that every face he saw was grotesque - bloody and pale, and often with flesh hanging off in parts. They were human and inhuman at the same time, like something out of his worst nightmares. Yet something so much worse than his nightmares because this time there was no Germany to help him. Even in those awful dreams his friend was there to help him and to protect him. Somehow, this was not what he imagined when he came for a holiday to America, and he wished he'd stayed in Italy.

Feliciano sniffed. "Doitsu, where are you?" This was what he asked himself every day. Surely Germany had noticed his absence when he so often visited him bearing chocolate or pasta, and had wondered where he was. Not just Germany, but the other countries as well - England, Japan, America...

_Pasta_. Oh, what he wouldn't give to taste his favourite food now. Just thinking about the soft shells covered in that steaming, rich, thick tomato sauce-

"Pastaaaaaa." He croaked feebly to himself, and curled up under his thin blanket - there seemed to be no electricity anymore, so neither the heating nor telephone worked - tighter, shivering, yet he managed to fall into a restless, haunted sleep - a sleep filled with dreams of pasta and his missing friends.

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The wind was bitterly cold, it stung Arthur's face like a hot iron was being pressed against his skin. His breath was condensing in the air, and his whole body felt so numb he could barely force himself to move. It was a wonder that he could support the boy in his arms without dropping him, yet Arthur was full of determination that he would get this smaller nation to safety. After all these years of tormenting and bullying Sealand, Arthur owed him his life. Peter had been surrounded by those things when Arthur had stumbled across him, already on his way to America and his friends. It had taken quite a lot of his ammo to get the small country out of there, but eventually he had managed to rescue the boy. Peter had just enough time to thank Arthur before promptly passing out, and Arthur now carried him bridal style, trying to protect him from most of the harsh wind. In the distance, Arthur could see the outline of the giant building he was searching for. The rest of the countries would no doubt be inside the conference room, waiting out this apocalypse with each other - after all, during every crisis they all gathered in the building, it was their own safe house. He _had_ to reach them before his weak body gave way from the cold and exhaustion, and so he forced himself forward even faster. Finally, he reached the gates that barred him from the UN building, and he shook the cold metal frantically, yelling for the others. He was sure, however, that they wouldn't hear him over the shrieking of the wind.

Suddenly, a low growl made Arthur whirl around, and he yelped loudly. It was one of those things, right in front of him! He couldn't hold back his screams of terror - half-hoping that they would alert the others to his presence. The creature staggered towards him, mouth wide open and moaning as he reached out a single, filthy hand to grab them both. Arthur did the only thing he could do in that split second before he became this thing's next meal.  
"I'm so very sorry about this, Peter." He murmured into the boy's ear, before turning around and summoning every ounce of his energy to throw Sealand over the low gate. Peter hit the floor with a loud thump, and didn't stir. Arthur prayed that the others realised Peter was there and came to get him before he froze to death, but even if they didn't it was better to fall asleep and never wake up than to be torn apart like he was about to be.

Arthur barely had time to turn back around before the drooling creature had dived on him. Under the weight, his legs gave way and they both tumbled to the floor. He squirmed and struggled with everything he had left in him, yet it was all in vain as - almost with a triumphant smirk on its face - the monster lunged for his throat...

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**Yeah, I kind of don't know anything about the UN so I made up that gate part. Please try and bear with me, I'll try and make the next chapter better and longer, as it is pretty short. But anyway, thanks for reading!**


	2. Unfair

Germany paced the conference room briskly, hands tucked neatly behind his back, occasionally looking up at France – who was positioned by the window – expectantly. Each time there was nothing, no new country that had managed to arrive at the UN, and no signs of who he yearned to see.  
Italy.  
Germany hadn't seen him for days, not even before the outbreak of those monsters, and he had absolutely no idea what had happened to the tiny red-haired Italian. He wished with all his heart that he had gone to check up on his friend when he hadn't turned up at the world meeting, instead of putting it down to the country being ill and bed-ridden. Now he wasn't sure whether Italy was trapped somewhere, scared and alone, or whether he was already one of the dead. Maybe he had been one of the first to succumb to the… illness or whatever caused this outbreak. Maybe it had arrived in Italy before it had spread to other countries, and his friend had come to America unwittingly carrying it. Whatever had happened, it was torture to Germany, and almost unbearable to think about. He missed the small man – Italy had always been around him, and now that he wasn't the whole world seemed too depressing and quiet.

It seemed as if everyone else was taunting him – almost all of the other countries surrounding him had those they held dear with them. Romano was sitting on the table being comforted by Spain – who knew that the Italian actually cared for his little brother whom he had always seemed very distant with; Japan was whispering to Taiwan a short distance away; China was next to Russia, though they weren't talking at all; Belgium and Netherlands seemed to be deep in quiet conversation, and the latter was helping her brush the dirt off her clothes; Seborga and Wy were sat by the fire, making small talk; and Switzerland had a reassuring arm around a shaking Liechtenstein. Looking around, only one person was on his own, in the exact same position as Germany – America. He was curled up in a corner on his own, using his jacket as a flimsy blanket, and in a deep sleep. He had waited calmly for England for the first day of the outbreak, but ever since he had been a nervous wreck – waiting, exactly like Germany, for any news of his friend. But to be honest, his situation looked just as bleak as Germany's did, and just like Germany he didn't have his brother to comfort and reassure him. Prussia had been with Germany until, after miles of running, he had exhausted and fallen behind. By the time Germany realised, a few seconds later, that his brother wasn't by his side any more the horde of corpses had already engulfed him. Even now, Germany couldn't shake Prussia's awful screams for help out of his mind, and the fact that he had had to keep running haunted him – he had abandoned his brother. As for Canada, America had heard nothing from his brother since the epidemic, and America felt almost certain that if Canada was alive he would have arrived by now. After all, countries like Japan had travelled further and made it to the UN safely – how could Canada possibly take so long?

"Merde!" France suddenly hissed – leaping away from the window and turning to Germany – his face rapidly draining of all colour and leaving him deathly pale. Germany's eyes widened, and his heart seemed to skip a beat as he prayed with every fibre of his being that it was who he wanted.

"What is it?" He asked, his voice surprisingly hoarse.

"It's… it's Angleterre." France whispered, "And that shrimp, Sealand."

"What?" Germany yelped, rushing to the window and trying to ignore the horrible sinking feeling in his chest, for it wasn't Italy as he had hoped. Outside the gates Germany could see England desperately trying to get in – rattling the metal that kept the corpses out furiously. Germany squinted, and then his breath caught in his throat.  
"Er… France…"

"Oui?"

"Those gates do open still, don't they?"

"Oui, if you 'ave a key."

"We need to open them right now, _right _now."

"Pourquoi?"

"Because those _things _are right behind England, and any moment he is going to be torn to shreds." Germany stepped backwards, his hand reaching to his belt to pull out his pistol as France took one look out the window, cursed loudly, and then ran out of the room. Germany was quick to follow, resisting the urge to wake up America as he passed – the sounds of England's screams were reaching him and Germany knew that every second was vital if they were to save the Brit's life, and he couldn't waste any time trying to wake up the sleepy nation. He made frantic gestures to the others in the room to stay where they were as he left, he couldn't have everyone else out behind him creating noise and bringing more of the monsters to where they were hiding – he wasn't sure how many of the corpses the frozen gate could handle before it gave way.

Germany hurriedly unbolted the front door of the United Nations building and shoved the desks and chairs that formed a protective barrier out of the way, swearing loudly as the bitter cold hit him like a million knives. He barely had time to wish he was wearing thicker clothes before he watched, horrified, as England was knocked to the floor by one of the creatures. The Brit let out a blood-curdling scream of terror that chilled Germany to his core, and the monster growled - lowering its face to England's neck. Instinctively, Germany raised his gun as fast as he could and, praying that he shot at the right moment, pulled the trigger. The bang was deafening, and for a moment everything was still, and Germany panicked - assuming he had missed and shot England instead. Then, the body went still, and fell on top of England with a thud. Germany sighed with relief just as France appeared, the key in his grasp, and he ran over to the gates as they were unlocked. While France went immediately to England's side, Germany stopped - seeing the body of Sealand on the floor next to the metal bars. He picked up the small child, gasping slightly at how cold the boy was, and checked for a pulse. It was weak, but it was there - England had saved the small child. He gripped Sealand tightly, trying to warm him up as he watched France hovering uncertainly over England. The Brit appeared dazed, almost disorientated, as France lifted him to his feet. He took one look at the other nation, before a shaky, yet dazzling, grin spread across his face.

"France, my friend, how nice it is to see you again!"

France frowned, confusion touching his soft features, and looked to Germany for guidance. "Er.. Germany, I think England 'as lost 'is mind!"

"I'm not surprised, he looks exhausted." Germany said, and indeed England looked ready to faint. He was trembling violently, and he was so weak had France's grip on his arms not been so strong he would have fallen over. "Help him inside, it's freezing."  
France pulled a face, reluctantly putting an arm around England and hoisting his arm over his neck. To say he looked uncomfortable holding England so close was an understatement - he looked as though he'd rather drop England back into the snow and laugh at him. When they reached the conference room there were simultaneous gasps from everyone in the room as he placed Sealand gently on the table, and Seborga and Wy lept up immediately.

"Sealand!" Wy squealed as Seborga picked him up, nodding his appreciation to Germany as he wrapped Sealand tightly in thick blankets and helped him to the fire while Wy continued to babble her thanks to Germany. He felt almost able to blush at their gratitude, he wasn't used to it - after all, he had only picked up Sealand, shouldn't they be thanking England, who had brought him all this way and saved him from becoming a meal to those creatures? Speaking of England, Germany decided that America should be woken up, finally, as France staggered in.

"America," He said, shaking the sleeping nation hard.

"Wh... what?!" America's eyes flew open, and he sat up immediately. "Are they attacking?! Are we in danger?! I'll-"

"America, shut up!" Germany snapped, and the blonde immediately quietened. "We have something for you."

"What is it?" He frowned, before looking around the room. He seemed confused for a moment, and then his eyes rested on England - where he was now sitting on the table, swaying slightly. For a moment he could only stare, his eyes widening in disbelief, and then he jumped to his feet - running at England so fast Germany almost didn't see him move.  
"Iggy!" He cried, wrapping his arms around the smaller man and holding him tight. England's dazzling smile returned to his face as he wrapped his arms around America.

"Hello, Al." He murmured, turning a gentle shade of pink as America's lips found their way to his cheek, neck, and then finally his own lips. As he started to blurt out how much of an idiot England was, and how much he had missed him, Germany had to turn away. He balled his hands into fists, furiously fighting down his emotions. It wasn't fair, how America and England could be reunited after so long, yet he still didn't have Italy near him. Maybe it was all stupid - after all, it wasn't like he and Italy were _going out _or anything... but why was he the only one who didn't have his companion by his side? It had to be his own fault for not looking after Italy better, and making sure the red-head was okay more often, because in truth Italy wasn't good at taking care of himself.

"Germany, are you okay?" Came a soft voice, and Germany looked to his left to see France staring at him.

"Ja," He sighed, looking at the floor. "I'm fine."

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**So that mainly consisted of waffle, I know, so I hope the next chapter will be better. Thanks for the reviews, it made me happy so... PASTA! Pasta for all! Thanks for reading!**


	3. Italy

_Day 7_

"-and in any case, it's far too dangerous. I'm sorry, Germany." Japan said softly, squeezing the blonde's shoulder. "You should get some sleep."

Germany nodded wordlessly, but he didn't move as Japan returned to his space next to the fire. He couldn't help but be shocked at his fellow nation's words; after all, had Italy not been a part of the Axis with them? And they had come so far together for Japan to agree with the rest of the countries that, _most _unfortunately, any attempts to leave the UN and rescue Italy – if he was still alive – were too dangerous and couldn't be allowed. Had he had more countries backing him up Germany might have argued with them, but as it was he wouldn't win against all of them, and anyway he was too exhausted to put up a fight. He sighed, sinking onto a chair and rubbing his temple with two fingers. He didn't know what to do anymore – whether to give up on Italy completely and accept that his friend was gone forever, or whether to ignore everyone else and go after Italy on his own. It would be risky, and he might have to face Italy being one of those things outside, but the red-head had to be worth it. He knew that if the situation was flipped Italy would happily go after himself, or any of the other nations for that matter, so surely they should do the same for him.  
Germany climbed slowly to his feet, his mind made up, and reached for his gun that was propped up against the wall. He held his breath slightly as he looked once around the group of countries all sleeping around the fire, which was their only source of heat, as if at any moment they might wake up. Every sound seemed to be as loud as thunder in the quiet room, and he almost yelped when his gun slipped out of his sweaty palms and onto the floor with a loud smash. For a moment, Germany didn't dare to breathe – staring at the group and waiting for one of them to awaken and ask what on earth he was doing. But, luckily, none of them even stirred at the noise; they were all too exhausted and in too deep a sleep to notice anything. He started to steal quietly across the room, picking up his coat as he went, when suddenly he heard a low, tired voice.

"Germany? Where're you going?" He turned to see America sitting up and running a hand through his dirty, tousled hair and squinting at the man.

Germany sighed, deciding that honesty was the best policy. "I'm going for Italy, and don't try to stop me."

"Can I come?"

"I know you don't think I sh- wait, what?!" Germany stared at the sandy-haired nation in disbelief. "You… you want to come?"

"Sure." America nodded. "I guess someone should go after the little guy, and it gives me the chance to get out of this place. After all, it's not exactly _fun _to be here."

"I… er... I guess you can come." Germany said uncertainly. "But what about him, won't he need you?" He pointed to England, who was curled tight against America's body and shivered occasionally with the coldness of the room. America frowned for a moment, before pulling the small blanket off himself and tucking it around the smaller man.

"I think he can live without me for a few hours, he'll probably still be asleep by the time we get back."

"Okay then, if you're sure…" Germany said uncertainly, and America clambered to his feet and bounded over to where Germany stood. The latter raised an eyebrow, "Aren't you going to get cold in just a vest and trousers?" He questioned. America rolled his eyes, plucking up his leather jacket from the table and putting it on, also grabbing for his pistol.

"Contrary to what everyone seems to think, I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, sure." Germany snorted quietly – the first grin in days spreading across his face. This was it, he was really going to go get Italy. Together, the two of them crept out of the room, being careful not to disturb the others, and were about to unbolt the door when a sudden clicking noise made them both whirl round to the barrel of a gun in their faces. Hungary narrowed her eyes, glaring at them both and switching from pointing the gun to Germany, and then America.

"Where do you think you're going?" She demanded.

There was a silence for a moment. "Out." America finally admitted.

"Out where?"

"Just for a walk…"

"Don't lie." She said sharply. "You're going for that little guy, Italy, aren't you?"

"Yes," Germany interrupted before America could say anything else, deciding that honesty was the best policy. "I can't stand it anymore, I have to know what's happened to him."

"I'm afraid," She said, stepping in front of them and blocking their exit, "I can't allow it. If you're seen by those things coming back inside, they might bring the whole gate down. I can't have you putting the entire group in jeopardy for one country."

"B-but… We can't just leave him!" Germany protested, turning pale.

"Yes we can, and yes we will." She said coldly, and then cocked her head to the conference room. "Get back in there right now, and I'll forget you ever tried to leave."

Germany's shoulders slumped in defeat, and he felt a horrible crashing feeling in his stomach. He wasn't going to go and rescue the Italian, he wasn't going to ever see his huge beam or taste that wonderful pasta he liked to make. Italy was gone… Dejected, he started to turn back towards the conference room when, suddenly, a loud thump made him turn around again. America was standing over Hungary, who was sprawled on the ground, eyes shut, with his gun twirling in his hand.  
"I don't know about you, but I've _always _wanted to do that!" He laughed in delight, and Germany ran over to her side and kneeled next to her limp body.

"What did you do?!" He demanded, shaking Hungary furiously. "Mein Gott, you've killed her!"

"Dude, chillax, I haven't _killed _her." He said, pulling the blonde back to his feet. "I just… knocked her out."

"Why would you do that?!" The German hissed.

"Well sorry, I thought you wanted to go after Italy."

Germany sighed unhappily. "Thanks, but you could have just forced her out of the way."

"What, and have her put a bullet in my head? No thanks." He chuckled, dragging Hungary back into the conference room and locking it from the outside. "Now come on already."

Germany shook his head as America unbolted the door, pulling his coat tighter against himself as the wind stung at his body. He stayed by the door as America looked around, searching for any of the undead that might be lurking, before gesturing for Germany to come. He could barely force his numb fingers to fumble with the gate's lock, and it took several long moments for him to finally unlock the large padlock and for them to set off. It was going to be a long walk, at least an hour, and Germany almost regretted his decision as they started walking. If only they had a car-

"Hey, Germany! You wanna walk for two hours?!" Came a shout, and the blonde turned to see America standing proudly beside a large 4x4. He smiled gratefully, hurrying over and catching the keys as America tossed them over.  
"You drive, I don't know where Italy's staying." He said, climbing into the passenger seat. Germany nodded, clambering into the car and gripping the wheel tightly as America pressed the heater on to warm up the freezing car. "Let's put some music on." He suggested, rummaging through the car until he picked up a blank, white CD, shrugging and slotting it inside the disc holder. Immediately Justin Bieber blared out of the speakers, and both countries pulled faces as America slammed down on the eject button – putting an end to the music.

"God almighty." He said, frowning. "Bloody beaver boy, I can't believe he's from _Canada_! At least my brother made up for it with Bryan Adams and Jim Carrey…" Suddenly, sadness crept across the American's face, and he fell silent. In truth, he felt guilty about how he had been treating his missing – and presumably dead – brother for all these years. He hadn't exactly paid any attention to him, or been a very good brother – even now he didn't spare many thoughts for Canada. What a great guy he was, not exactly the best hero material.

"Hey, America-" Germany started, noticing the other man's silence and trying to break the ice, but he was interrupted as America raised a hand to quieten him.

"Look…" He started. "We're going to be here for a while together, let's face it, so… if you want, you can call me Alfred."

"Er… okay then." Germany nodded. "I guess in that case you can call me Ludwig."

"Cool." Alfred smiled, before becoming silent and turning to look out of the window as they passed the abandoned houses. It seemed as if they hadn't been inhabited for years, not just days – everything was so quiet and eerie. Eventually the car slowed to a halt, and Germany stared intently at the large house at the end of the road.  
"That's it." He said quietly, his face losing all colour. America nodded, climbing out of the car and holding his gun close to his chest – narrowing his eyes and scanning the whole street. When he was absolutely sure there was no danger he started to jog gently towards the house, Germany hot at his heels.

"Italy?" America said softly, pushing open the door and wincing as it emitted a mournful creak. "Are you in here, little buddy?" There was no response, and America stepped inside the house – easily pushing aside the makeshift barrier of tables and chairs that had been hastily shoved in front of the front door. The house was dark, dusty and completely silent as they walked through the kitchen, searching for their friend. Germany stayed behind America as if afraid that if he went first he would find something awful. America rummaged through all of the cupboards, frowning anxiously as he saw them all completely bare – if Italy was still here, and the likelihood of that was strong, then he had no food. "Italy?" He called out once more, moving past the kitchen and into the living room. This room was even darker than the kitchen, with the windows hastily boarded up and the curtains pulled across to block any more light from getting in. America stepped around the sofa in the middle of the room and, at the sight, swallowed audibly. Germany rushed forwards.

"What? What's wrong?" He asked, panicked, and then looked down as well. He paled drastically, eyes widening as he looked down on the still figure of Italy wrapped under a dirty, pathetic blanket. His eyes were shut, he looked almost as if he was sleeping, and he was devoid of colour. Germany stepped towards him, his hand outstretched, but America held him back.

"What if he's one of them?" He asked quietly, his face solemn, and Germany appeared startled.

"One of them?! No, he would have attacked us by now, surely!"

"We can't be sure, we don't know how these things work." America pulled out his pistol from his coat pocket, which alarmed Germany even more.

"You can't shoot him in cold blood!" He hissed, reaching out for the gun. America, however, pushed him away.

"I'm not gonna shoot him." He said, slowly moving the gun and gently nudging Italy's forehead with the end. When the small man didn't stir, he bowed his head slightly. "Sorry, Ludwig, he didn't make it…"

"No…" Germany whispered, kneeling beside Italy on the sofa and resting his forehead on the Italian's somehow still soft hair. "I should have come sooner. I should have known he wouldn't have been able to survive for a week on his own, this is all my fault."

"It's not your fault." America murmured, putting a comforting hand on Germany's shoulder. "You did all you could."

"I should h-have done more." Germany's voice was hoarse, and as it cracked America was astonished as he realised the blonde was almost in tears. "I p-promised him I'd be there to help him w-w-whenever he needed me. I p-pinkie promised." With that, a single tear rolled down his cheek and into Italy's hair. "I'm so sorry…. F-Feliciano…"

America himself felt more emotional than usual, and he ran a hand through his hair like he so often did. He opened his mouth to say something to Germany, when there was a feeble croak.

"D-D-Doitsu…"

"Italy?!" Germany's head snapped up and he stared intently at Italy, holding his breath. "Can you hear me?"

"Y-y-you… came for me."

"I don't break my promises, Italy." Germany wiped his eyes, a relieved smile breaking across his features as he gently stroked the red-head's hair. Italy's eyes opened for the first time, and Germany stared into the weak yet somehow still beautiful amber eyes of his friend, and at the sight of the German Italy's eyes sparkled slightly.

"I like it better when… when you call me by my other name." He whispered.

"Of course, Feliciano." He nodded. "Are you hurt at all?"

"No." Italy shook his head slightly. "Just hungry… and tired."

"I'll get you some food as soon as we get to safety." He promised, moving to gently scoop the Italian into his arms and hold him tightly. America, who was also grinning happily, picked up the small blanket and wrapped it back around Italy, seeing that the smaller country was shivering. Italy pressed into the muscles of Germany's chest, listening to the steady thrumming of his heart which was more comforting than the weak beats of his own, and felt some of the chills ease. His eyes felt so heavy, he just wanted to fall asleep for hours – wrapped up in Germany's warmth – but he was terrified of being left alone again and being once more at the mercy of those people he had heard outside. Germany seemed to realise what Italy was thinking, because suddenly his breath was at Italy's ear.

"You can sleep, Feli, I won't leave you alone." He said quietly, and Italy felt a shiver run through him. _Feli - _no one had ever called him that before, not even Romano. He had never had a nickname before, and somehow the name seemed to escape Germany's lips so naturally.

"Promise?" He asked, wide-eyed.

"Pinkie promise." Germany smiled at him, and Italy relaxed. Soon, whatever words that were coming from Germany and America seemed slurred and distant, and his whole body felt as heavy as lead. In almost no time whatsoever, he allowed sleep to take over him.

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**I'm so sorry this has taken so long to post, but I've been really busy - I have my Italian exam next Tuesday and just before that my French oral exam, so I've been spending a lot of time on those two things. Have pasta for being so patient! And sorry if I made Hungary look like a cow, I tried not to. She's only trying to do the best for the group. I also tried to make it a bit longer, so sorry if it's another waffle xD I hope you like it, and thanks for the reviews.**


	4. Plan gone wrong

"Shit." America cursed as, with a shudder, the car slowed to a halt. He looked around at the darkness outside of the vehicle, paling slightly as if expecting someone – or something – to spring out suddenly with an axe in hand and finish them off. Germany made a noise of confusion, gripping Italy tighter to himself instinctively as he looked at America, and then the dashboard, questioningly. America sighed, punching the wheel of the car bitterly before looking up at the other blond.  
"We're out of gas." He said quietly.

"What?!"

"We're. Out. Of. Gas." America repeated, pausing between every word. "There's none left."

"But surely we would have received a warning if we were running out…" Germany said uncertainly, and America nodded.

"We did get a warning… I just ignored it." He mumbled.

"You… you ignored it?"

"I couldn't do much else."

"How about stopping to refill?!" Germany felt anger bubbling up inside him all of a sudden. He couldn't help it, if they didn't get back to the others soon who knew what would happen to them – not just Italy! The walk back alone would take hours, and it was the middle of the night! There were no houses around them that he could see and there were no suitable trees to spend the night in – they were completely exposed and vulnerable. America, detecting his tone of voice, suddenly became hostile.

"We're in the middle of nowhere!" He cried, pointing outside to the long stretches of road. "We've been in the middle-of-fricking-nowhere for ages, what did you want me to do?!"

"How about tell me about the problem, you imbecile?!"

"I'm not stupid!" America shrieked, his voice turning unusually shrill as he flushed darkly. "Just because you all think I'm-"

"Shut up." Germany raised a hand to silence the American, stiffening slightly as his eyes scanned the darkness outside. America, however, only became more agitated at this gesture.

"Don't tell me to shut up or I swear to God I'll-"

"Alfred!" Germany snapped loudly. "If you don't shut up we're all going to die!"

It worked, and America fell silent immediately, focusing intently on the German as his eyes wandered over the road. Germany's eyes were sharp, and even in the dark he could make out the figures that were starting to surround the car. Slow, lumbering corpses were staggering around – each soaked in blood or with torn flesh. Germany felt a thrill of panic as he realised they were slowly making their way towards the car – obviously attracted by the loud argument that had taken place. America noticed them almost immediately afterwards and yelped loudly, furiously twisting the key in the ignition to try and get the car moving.

"Alfred, stop it!" Germany hissed as the car made weak revving noises, and the lights flashed on and off. The creatures around the car let out low moans, some hitting the bonnet of the car as they started to surround the three. "You're going to get us all killed!"

"We're going to die anyway!" He whimpered, reaching for the door handle in his panic. Germany reached across – grabbing his wrist and forcing him away from the door with a determined look on his face.

"Don't you dare go outside or you're finished!" He hissed, and America froze – his bottom lip trembling as what little colour he had in his face drained rapidly. Germany took a deep breath as the monsters around them started banging clumsily on the windows – searching for entry – and he tried to retain what little amount of calm he had left. "Right, what's important is we don't panic."

"Sure, I'll try." He managed to retort sarcastically, though his voice was still weak. "What do you suggest we do?"

Germany paused, looking around the car for some sort of escape. Internally he marvelled at his ability to keep calm considering the situation they were in. Not only that, but he was astonished that Italy hadn't regained consciousness with all of the noise – the Italian must have been in a worse condition than he had thought. Shaking the thought out of his mind, Germany's eyes fixated on the roof of the vehicle, where the sunroof was. He turned to America, gesturing to the small window.

"Out there?" He asked with a small, weak voice, and earned a nod in response. He paused for a brief moment, and then reached for the small handle of the window – opening it up. He poked his head out of the sunroof and hauled himself up, before reaching down for Italy and lifting him into his arms. Germany followed soon after, almost falling over as the car was rocked unsteadily by the repeated bangs of the zombies' clumsy fists, though America's hand that was suddenly around his wrist steadied him.  
"Where do we go?" He asked. "There are more and more with every minute!"

"I'll distract them." Germany said after a split-second pause. "You go."

"Not without you!" America shook his head, trying to push Italy back into the latter's hands. "Italy needs you!"

"I'll be right behind you." Germany promised, pushing the Italian away from him and back into America's arms. "Just keep running and I'll catch up."

"That's what everyone always says!" America looked near tears, as though he was torn in half over what he should do. "I-I can't…"

"We don't have time for this." Germany snapped as the car shook more violently, and the hands creeping up the metal edged closer to their feet. "The hero would never stay and get everyone killed, would he?!"

America's face hardened at his words, and suddenly a blazing determination fell on his features. He nodded silently, adjusting Italy so he was over his shoulder in the fireman's carry, and waited for Germany's distraction. The former pulled out his pistol from his belt and, without another look to the others, jumped off the car into the crowd of undead. America yelped in surprise as he completely disappeared – searching the mass for any signs of the German frantically.  
"Ludwig?!" He screamed, almost dropping Italy as he prepared, impulsively, to jump after his ally. However, a loud gunshot told him that Germany was not yet finished and, almost immediately after, he spotted Germany shoving the corpses out of his way – firing blindly at them all. America, knowing this was his only chance to get away safely with the smaller country in his arms, leapt off the car and started sprinting for the large field beside the road. He couldn't bear to look behind him, forcing himself faster and faster through the field of dead crops. Ahead of him, the shape of a large house was beginning to become clearer – refuge! However, around him more and more of those things were appearing, moaning and reaching out with their clammy hands for America. There seemed to be a never-ending swarm of them around him, blocking his path to safety.

"Run faster you moron!" Came a roar, and America jumped violently at the sound of Germany's voice. "We'll never make it otherwise!"

"I'm trying!" America cried in protest, but his lungs felt like they were going to explode and his grasp on Italy was slowly weakening. He was suddenly reminded of his England, and what he must have felt when he was carrying Sealand, and suddenly a strength in him he had never before experienced pulsed through his body. He sped up, running with such a pace Germany couldn't keep up with at all, and he started to lag behind. America didn't notice, however, and had very soon reached the house and disappeared inside. Germany gasped for breath, his heart thumping wildly as the creatures around him started to make wild lunges. They were boxing him in – trapping him. The hands that had been brushing against him were now grasping his clothes and tearing the weakened material of his coat. The house was so tantalisingly close, he could see America calling out his name by the door and could almost reach him. It all happened in an instant. He stumbled, lunging desperately for the door just as the screams and wails of the creatures around him became deafening and their hands were all over him….

* * *

**Okay, sorry I took so long to update. My French Oral has been re-scheduled for Monday morning and so I've been focusing more on that, and the Italian exam I just did. I've also gone back and changed the chapters so that it tells you how many days has gone by, just so it's less confusing. If two chapters are on the same day I won't put what day it is at the top of the second, which is why this chapter doesn't have one. Anyway, hope you like the chapter and I'll try and update fast :)**


	5. Rescue mission

_Day 8_

England sighed, rolling over and blindly fumbling around the cold, bristly carpet for the warm body of America. When his hand grasped only air, however, his eyes slowly fluttered open and a frown touched his features.  
"A-Alfred?" He murmured, sitting up groggily and rubbing his eyes. Upon looking around he could see that the other countries, who had been previously curled up nearby, were also up – their blankets discarded around the dying fire. Strange, he didn't usually wake up later than everyone else.

"Ah, Igirisu-San, you're awake." Came the soft voice of Japan, and England raised his head to see Japan, not to mention the other countries surrounding, looking down on him. England squinted – his eyes still heavy with tiredness – and noticed that they were all grouped around Hungary, who was pressing a towel filled with snow on a nasty, swollen bruise on her forehead. How she got the bruise was beyond him, but he had more important things to worry about.

"Where's America?" He asked quietly, seeing no signs of the taller blond in the crowd.

"Gone." Hungary said bitterly, glaring down at England as if he had done something wrong. The Brit, not really comprehending what she had just said, cocked his head to the side slightly.

"What?"

"You heard me," she snapped, "he's gone! Him and that German bastard."

England, realising that Hungary was being completely serious and he had not just misheard the sentence, felt his heart skip a beat – or maybe two. "What do you mean they've gone?!" He yelped, scrambling to his feet. "They can't have gone! Wh-where would they go?! Why those two?!"

"Why do you think? They've gone after Italy, obviously. I tried to stop them and they attacked me!" She gestured to her head, her face turning red with anger. "That's what you get for looking out for the  
group!"

England's mouth fell open in sheer shock and disbelief. For one, America wasn't the type – as strong and powerful as he was – to just attack another country without provocation. Secondly, why had he left without taking England with him? The two of them were partners, never one without the other, and England's hypothermia spell had been over 3 days ago! He wasn't delicate and America knew that!  
"I… I…" He stuttered, trying to think of what to say. Japan, sensing England's emotions, stepped in.

"I'm sure they both had a very good reason for leaving, Hungary." He reminded the seething nation. "And whatever that reason, they should be back very soon. Italy's flat is only a few hours from here and according to Hungary they left in the middle of the night."

"But they should be back by now then, surely." France reasoned, a look of concern crossing across his face. "I mean, it's almost 10 o'clock in the morning. Unless…" He trailed off, not daring to venture into the darker possibilities. The other countries shuddered, looking at each other and concluding the sentence themselves.

"No!" Spain cut in, seeing that England looked almost ready to cry or break down. "Stop being so negative, guys, I'm sure they're fine and they just needed to stop somewhere. They know how to take care of themselves."

"But what if they were cornered?" Taiwan interjected. "If there were enough of those corpses then not even-"

"That's enough." Came a more fierce voice, and everyone turned to look at Romano in surprise as he stepped forwards. "My brother isn't dead. He's _fine._ That potato-bastard knows how to take care of himself and my little brother, no one can take that guy down and I'll go out there and prove it myself!"

"Me too." Spain nodded, though he seemed slightly startled by the Italian's outburst. "I'll go after them if that's what it takes. They're my friends… well, Italy is anyway, and we've got to look out for everyone now!"

"You want to go after them and get yourselves killed?" Hungary demanded, glaring daggers at the two brunettes. "Fine, go after those idiots if you want, I won't stop you."

"Anyone else want to come with us?" Spain asked, though he didn't look as if he expected anyone else to raise their hand and put their life on the line. The countries had always been self-centred like that, and old habits die hard. The only other person to step forwards was, obviously, England.

"I'm coming." Was all he said, and Spain didn't even have to question his motives. The three of them looked at each other for a moment before grabbing their weapons and whatever clothes they still had. England was still in his pyjamas but he didn't care – America was far more important and he would go through hypothermia a dozen times over if it meant having the younger man in his arms again…

* * *

"What's that?" Romano questioned, tugging on Spain's arm and pointing towards an abandoned 4x4 in the middle of the road. Spain frowned, pulling over and stopping the car.

"It's just a car, why are we stopping?" England asked, confused.

"We're in the middle of nowhere," Spain said, opening the door and climbing out – shortly followed by England and Romano. "There is no sign of a struggle or blood, so we can rule out the possibility of the walkers getting them. That means they made a run for it, whether they're the others or not it's worth checking out."  
Without another word, Spain jogged towards the car and cautiously checked inside – gun tightly in hand. When certain that no one, or nothing, was going to jump out and attack him he prised open the unlocked door and peered in. After a few moments his face paled and he looked up at Romano and England with a frightened look on his face.

"What?!" England demanded, a horrible fear lurching in his stomach as he ran towards Spain.

"This." Spain held up something, and it took England a few moments to recognize the object. When he did, however, he froze. It was a jacket. A bomber jacket. With the number 50 on the back. America.

"Al…" England whispered, reaching out and clinging onto the jacket tightly. It was cold, so America must have left it a while ago, yet it had been worn recently enough to still smell of the country – a strong hamburger scent that England both loved and detested. "Why would he leave this here? He loves this jacket…"

"Maybe they had to make a quick getaway," Romano suggested, "and he left it in the car by accident."

"That sounds probable." Spain agreed, looking at their surroundings closely. "But where would they go if they had to run off?"

England and Romano joined in – looking around and trying to determine exactly where the three, unless it was only America who had run off, would have likely headed to. England was the first to spot the house in the distance – littered with the undead that were dragging themselves around the fields and moaning quietly.  
"What about there?" He questioned, and Spain and Romano turned to look to where he was pointing.

"It's worth a try, at least." Spain said, nodding in agreement, "but there are loads of them, so keep your weapons close."

Spain led the way, keeping up a steady jog down the steep hill and neatly dodging any of the creatures that he came across – they didn't particularly want the noise of gunshots bringing more of the zombies towards them. The nearer they got to the house, however, the wider the countries' eyes got and the more their hearts pounded. Blood. There was blood on the door and the floor.

"Merda." Romano cursed under his breath, stepping back from the door. It sounded stupid for a country who had seen wars for centuries, but blood made the Italian feel queasy. Spain and England, however, didn't hesitate and kicked open the door that had been poorly, and very hastily, barricaded on the inside. They had to squint, as the windows were covered by thick blinds and the dust that floated around made it all very difficult to see. Even though they were used to abandoned houses by now, this was enough to give the three shudders.

"Guys?" Spain called loudly, yet there was no answer. He turned to England and Romano, "right, close the door before any of those things get in. I'll check out downstairs, you two go upstairs. Call me if you see anything."

"Okay boss." Romano nodded and, without a complaint, set off up the stairs – England hot on his heels. They stopped at the landing, scanning the dozen or so doors that lay ahead of them. England's eyes rested on the door directly at the end of the corridor in front of them. From the slit at the bottom a small, flickering light could be seen which indicated some sort of presence – even if it wasn't the presence they were searching for. Cautiously, so as not to alarm whoever was inside the room, England and Romano stepped towards the door, England almost holding his breath in anticipation. When they reached the door Romano uncertainly stuck out his foot and pushed against the wood gently. A shaking hand reached for the doorknob and twisted, and he looked at England.

"Ready?" He asked.

"What are you going to do?!" England hissed, but before he could stop Romano the latter had kicked the door with tremendous force and sent it crashing into the wall – destroying the second weak barrier. A loud gunshot rang through the room and Romano screamed – throwing his arms into the air in surrender. A few seconds of silence passed, and then-

"Artie?!" Came a strangled cry, and England opened his eyes – his breath catching in his throat.

"A…Al?" He croaked, and his gaze landed on the stunned American who was collapsed on the floor in front of a crackling fire. A huge grin spread across the Brit's face and he hurried to his partner's side to pull America into a tight, warm hug. America melted into England's grasp – shivering slightly in the cold – and nuzzled his neck.

"It's about time you got here." He whispered, and a frown suddenly crossed England's face.

"You bloody idiot!" He cried, and America looked surprised for a second. "How could you even think about going without me?! You scared me to death!"

"Sorry." America looked sheepish. "I didn't want you to get hurt."

"Not good enough, next time you decide to go on a rescue mission you _will _bring me."

"Fine." The younger blond nodded. Suddenly, a groan alerted England and Romano – who had been standing in the doorway a little awkwardly – to a figure in the corner. Romano clapped a hand over his mouth, paling rapidly at the sight of Germany. The blond was curled up, blood-soaked bandages covering many inches of his body and dried blood on his face. America swallowed, being reminded of his injured comrade, and England looked horrified.

"Was he… b-b-b…?"

"N-no." America shook his head. "Not that I know of but… they managed to cut him a lot with their fingers and he's been hurt pretty bad. I don't know if it means he'll become one of them.."

"Romano! England!" Came a shout, and Spain burst into the room – gasping for breath and whirling his gun around wildly.

"Took you long enough, bastard." Romano complained. "Don't worry, if there had been an attack you'd have two less people to worry about."

"Sorry, Corazon," Spain said, tucking his gun back away before turning to the others – his eyes widening. "Germany! Oh god, not you as well!"

"He's not been bitten, only scratched… a lot." Romano murmured, surprising everyone by kneeling down beside Germany and cocking his head slightly. "How do you feel, potato-bastard?"

"Ngggh." Germany groaned, his eyes opening slightly. "How do you think I feel, idiot?!"

"Sorry." Romano grimaced, turning and seeing Italy curled up next to the blonde – his face softening. "You kept him safe?"

"I wouldn't… ever let him get hurt." Germany whispered, a hand on Italy's shoulder protectively. "He's weak, though, and he needs food fast."

"Si," Romano nodded, turning to England and Spain. "We need to get out of here. Fratello needs to eat and Germany needs medical treatment."

Spain could only stare at Romano, his mouth hanging open slightly at the Italian's unexpected softness and causing Romano to snap "stop staring, idiota, I'm trying to do the right thing here!"

"Sorry, sorry." Spain said hurriedly, rushing forwards to help Germany to his feet and allow the larger male to lean on him. America climbed to his feet and picked up Italy.  
"I'm stronger than you," he said to Romano. "Don't worry, I won't drop him."

"Grazie."

The six of them made their way outside, though it was slow progress with Germany being so heavy and hard to drag down the stairs by Spain and England. Maybe luck was on their side because, when they got outside, the numbers of those creatures had dwindled and there was a clear path to their car.

"C'mon, hurry!" America said, leading the way and forcing the others to move fast. Germany was letting out low wails of pain as England and Spain tugged him forwards faster, though he was trying desperately to control it.

"We can't hurry, we're hurting him!" England protested, slowing down slightly.

"I'd rather he was hurt than torn to pieces! Come. On!"

"I'm sorry about this, Germany." England whispered before starting to move faster. Germany's face was screwed up tight but he didn't say anything in response, and he feebly tried to move his battered legs to ease some of the two's burden.

"Hey!" Romano suddenly yelled, stopping beside the car and stepping backwards. "Who are y-argh!" Whatever he was about to say was interrupted as a figure – dressed completely in black – seemed to appear out of nowhere and send a large boot into the Italian's side. Romano cried out in pain, being sent flying by the kick and crashing into the tarmac of the road with a loud thump. Spain barely had time to roar in protest and let go of Germany before the figure was on top of Romano – a shiny, silver blade pressed against the country's throat…

* * *

**Meh, this is really rushed because, surprise surprise, I still haven't done my French oral xD Believe me, you can't prepare too much. Also I've got relatives from Australia over, and I haven't seen my uncle in 8 years so I've been more worried about spending a lot of time with him. So please forgive me for this chapter if it's rubbish, and thanks a lot for all the reviews because you guys really make my day! And this is slightly predictable - straight on from one problem to another, but hey ho. Thanks for reading :)**


	6. Mysterious figures

For a few, tense moments there was absolute silence in which no one moved and no one dared to so much as breathe. Spain was frozen, though every fibre of his being was screaming at him to shove the figure off of Romano and pull the Italian to safety. He knew that one false move could cost not only his partner's life, but everyone else's as well. Romano seemed to clock that his life was on the line as well – he didn't try to force the figure off himself, instead he stayed completely still, his eyes silently pleading with his captor. The fear in his eyes scared Spain, never had he seen Romano so terrified before. The figure that pinned him to the ground seemed to falter for a second, but then the knife was raised in the air and thrown down with force – followed by a string of foreign, furious curses. Spain felt a silent scream escaping his lungs as the knife was hurled towards his lover – finally finding the use of his legs as he started to sprint towards them both. Romano, on the other hand, could only stare down at the blade… thanking God that it had landed barely an inch away from his body. The hoodie-clad character clambered to his feet and started to step away from Romano, never once taking his eyes off the brunette. Then, a glove-covered hand tore the balaclava away from his face and revealed lime green eyes and a tumble of blond locks that fell to the person's shoulder. Romano stared for a moment, absolutely speechless, and then he to scrambled up and shoved the attacker with enough force to send him flying to the ground once more.  
"Bastardo!" He spat, kicking the blond in the shin. "What the _hell _were you thinking?! You could have killed me!"

"If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead." Poland replied, brushing the dirt off his dark clothes and glaring at Romano, "and it, like, so wasn't my fault that you snuck up on me like that."

"Snuck up on you?" The Italian hissed, launching another kick at the Polish man. "I didn't sneak up on you, you attacked me!"

"Poland?" Spain interrupted, stepping forwards with an attitude completely opposite to Romano as a huge grin spread across his face. "You're not dead, amigo!"

Poland laughed, forgetting about the angry Italian and greeting Spain with the same warm smile despite their lack of proper friendship. "Like, should I be offended that you thought someone could kill me?" Without waiting for a response he climbed to his feet and turned to the figure next to him, who was also dressed from head to toe in black. With an encouraging nod from Poland, the figure too reached for his mask and pulled it off – revealing brown waves of hair that fell somewhat to his shoulders. Lithuania smiled sheepishly at the group, hiding slightly behind Poland as if worried that Romano would try and hurt him as well. Instead, Romano was still frowning unhappily.  
"Enough of the happy greetings," he snapped at Spain. "I want to know why you attacked me!"

"If you'd seen some of the other countries you totally would have understood." Poland replied coolly, folding his arms. "I couldn't take any chances."

"What do you mean, other countries?"

"Well on our way to safety we ran into New Zealand." Poland started, and beside him Lithuania nodded unhappily. "At first we thought he'd join us, but then he completely started attacking us! I mean, we didn't even start talking to him – he just took out a knife and tried to cut a new bellybutton in us! We… we had to finish him off pretty quickly…"

"It was horrible." Lithuania shuddered, trembling slightly at the memory of the night. "If you'd been there you wouldn't be very happy to see other people either."

"Sorry for hurting and scaring you, Romano." Poland offered his apology, holding out his hand.

The Italian scoffed, "scare me? Impossibile." Nevertheless, he took Poland's hand and shook it - granted it was a little stiffly. "So… where have you two been for the last week or so?"

"Three." Lithuania interjected, and Romano looked confused.

"What?"

"Three, where have us three been."

"Three? But there's only two of you…" Spain looked just as confused as his Italian partner, and he glanced around as if he was going to spot the third under the car or in another completely random place.

"I'm here." Came a soft voice, and Romano's group all jumped as the source of the voice was revealed. America's eyes widened at the sight of the blond hair, the curl that still did not lie flat and the dirt and grime-covered glasses. He stared at his brother almost disbelievingly, as if expecting him to just disappear as soon as he looked away.  
"C.. C-Canada?" He stuttered, his voice turning just as quiet as his sibling's. "Mattie, is that really you?"

"It's really me, Al." Canada beamed, and for what seemed like the millionth time America was running as fast as he could into the arms of his loved one. Canada almost tripped with the weight of the American in his arms, yet he didn't care as America hugged him painfully tight and cried out how much he had missed the Canadian and how he had thought him dead. Canada had turned a rosy pink, not used to the attention from his older brother, but returned the hug almost as tightly – both of them being crushed against the other. England yelped in protest, having had Italy dumped in his arms and now struggling to remain upright with the weight of two men, but America completely ignored his boyfriend's protests and continued to shower Canada with brotherly affection. Poland and Lithuania were both laughing, perhaps at the other group's lack of sight towards Canada or the usually-composed America finding a tear rolling down his cheek.

"Don't you _ever _do that to me again, Matthew Williams!" America yelled, wiping away the tear hastily as if trying to hide his weakness. "I can't lose my only brother!"

"It wasn't exactly easy for me, either." Canada admitted with a slight roll of the eyes. "I didn't know what had happened to any of you."

"Still…"

"Alfred Jones you bloody wanker!" Came a shout, and America turned to his struggling partner. "If you don't help me out right now God help me I will stab you!"

"Sorry, Igs." America apologised, and England let out another noise of protest at the nickname. "I'll come help you now." He stepped forwards to take Italy's limp body from the Brit, neatly dodging the slap aimed at him, and adjusted the red-head so he was being carried bridal style. Poland, Lithuania and Canada all held expressions of shock and concern at the sight of Italy and Germany – who was now being supported by Spain again – but America, nor the others, did not offer an explanation. He made sure that both the countries were safely buckled into the seats of the car before turning to the three new countries.

"Get in if you want to come somewhere safe. I'll explain everything when we get back."

"Sounds good to me." Poland nodded, grabbing Lithuania by the hand and pulling him inside the vehicle. Canada too climbed in, or rather he was forcefully dragged in by America – who plonked the Canadian down next to him. England growled slightly, all the seats of the 4x4 being taken up, and tried to decide where to sit. America seemed to realise the problem because he threw the keys at Canada, switched to the passenger side and patted his legs.

"Hop on, Iggy."

"Don't call me that in public." England hissed, and shook his head furiously. "And there is absolutely no way I am sitting on your lap."

"You'll have to walk back then." America chuckled, patting his legs once more. "Come on, I don't bite."

"I absolutely refuse to be paraded on your legs like a lap-dog!"

"We're not parading about, idiot, we're trying to get away from things that want to rip us apart and eat us. You're not my lap-dog either, so just stop being such a baby and hop on."

"Bloody wanker." England muttered under his breath, reluctantly climbing onto the younger countries lap and scowling as hands wrapped around his waist. "Hate you… go get eaten… git…"

* * *

**Okay, so this is really short because it's the middle of the night here and I didn't want to spend too long on happy things xD Hope you enjoyed, and just a heads-up – the next chapter might not be so happy…**


	7. Breach

**So I've decided to skip a week or two because, to be honest, no one wants me to drag this on for ages. I'd rather get to the better parts. So, sorry, if it's slightly confusing xD**

* * *

_Day 27_

"OW!"

"Ve~ sorry!"

"Be careful, dammit Feli!"

"I'm sorry! I'm trying, really I am!"

"Just go a bit slower this time, alright?" Germany sighed, looking down on the quivering Italian in front of him. Italy nodded, trying hard not to cry as he once more pulled at the bandages covering Germany's body. He tried so hard not to hurt the blond, but no matter how gentle his hands were Germany still screwed up his face in pain and yelled at the red-head. Taking a deep breath, the Italian pulled once more at Germany's bandages – making sure to go as slow as he could. Germany winced, biting his lip hard in an effort not to cry out, as he knew that Italy was being as gentle as he could and that shouting would not make the pain go away. After a few agonising minutes the bandages were off, exposing the deep cuts that marred his whole body and still looked fresh. At least Germany hadn't turned into one of those creatures, yet… he hadn't shown any signs of illness or infection either, which was at least promising. Italy had made a full recovery as well, as soon as he had some food inside him and a few days' rest he had been back to his usual, perky self, which at least lightened the mood of the group. Poland had also been helping, along with Spain - the two made an unusually funny pair and managed to make everyone laugh at least once a day. In their current situation the laughter was welcome, it took their minds off what was happening around them and at least gave them that little extra to keep going for.  
As a whole, however, the group was struggling even more than ever. Not a week after Poland, Lithuania and Canada had joined the group Greece, Latvia and Estonia – the last two much to Lithuania's delight – had joined the group as well, bring the total number up to a staggering 25. With so many people it was not only hard to keep them in one room, which would help with safety and organisation, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to feed them all. Foraging trips were dangerous, and so the group had to last on whatever they had until they absolutely needed to leave before they were willing to send anyone out - and with every increasing member the trips were becoming increasingly common. On a more positive note, the group of countries were at least getting along nicely. With them all at risk of being turned into one of those creatures, or killed, with every trip outside and with the losses they had already suffered no one found they had the will to argue with each other. Not only that but, after seeing Germany and America on a first-name basis, they had decided to treat each other more like humans and address each other as such.

"Why aren't they healed already?" Italy whispered, staring at the wounds.

"It hasn't been long enough, Feli." Germany murmured in response, helping him to apply fresh bandages. "Look, some of the smaller ones are healing well. I'm not going to recover overnight, just relax a little."

"If you say so…" Italy still looked unhappy, but nevertheless helped Germany to button up his shirt before heading over to his brother, Spain and Lithuania. The latter looked visibly upset, and it was no wonder why. Poland, Japan, France and Greece had all left in the morning on a scavenge for food and were now two hours late. The group kept on a strict time schedule so that no one panicked when people were gone for a pro-longed period of time, and since it had been introduced no one had ever gone over their time limit. Lithuania, China and Russia had been close to going over their limit when they were cornered by some of the infected, but they managed to get away eventually and return to safety. Now that a group had exceeded their limit everyone was anxious and trying not to jump to conclusions.

In one corner of the room America, Canada, England and Switzerland were all discussing the best way to deal with the present situation. Canada and America were saying that they couldn't just abandon their friends and that they should send out a small search group around the area to check for any signs of the countries. Switzerland and England, however, argued that sending out a search group was dangerous and could cost one of them their life – besides, the foraging group knew the risks associated with going outside when they volunteered.

"You can't just stand here and do nothing!" Lithuania cried, stepping towards England and Switzerland. "We have to try and help!"

"Toris," England sighed, "there's nothing we can do. Just try to sleep and forget about this."

"Forget, how can I forget when it's _Feliks _out there?!" He screamed; red in the face from anger and upset. He couldn't help it, if anything had happened to Poland… he didn't know what he'd do if… if he was… "If it was Alfred missing you wouldn't be sitting around, would you?!"

"Tor-"

"Would you?!"

"You're right, I wouldn't." England snapped, storming towards Lithuania until they were inches apart. "I'd be feeling exactly how you do right now, but no one would let me go out to check what had happened to him either. I know I'm a selfish git but I'm just trying to do what's best for the _majority _of the group and… and if that means that 4 of us don't make it, well… I'm going to have to deal with it, and so will you."

"I'll go on my own!" He threatened, a tear trickling down his cheek. "I don't need any of you with me. I'll go find them and-"

"You will do no such thing." Switzerland said darkly, also taking a threatening step towards Lithuania. "You're staying right here where we can keep an eye on you. You're becoming hysterical-"

"Of course I'm becoming hysterical! Don't you understand-"

"Will everybody just shut up?!" China yelled, and immediately everyone fell silent to stare at him. He brushed a few loose strands of hair out of his eyes and sighed, glaring at the four. "All this arguing is just giving me a headache. We need to be mature about this instead of just screaming at each other, aru."

"What do you suggest, then?" Liechtenstein asked quietly, walking up to Switzerland and taking gentle hold of his coat – knowing that having her beside him would often calm him down.

"I know it seems like two hours means that they're probably dead." He started, ignoring the collective wince at the word 'dead'. "But when my group were cornered we had to hide out in an abandoned house until the infected left us alone. Maybe that's what's happened to the others and they're still waiting for it to be safe. I don't think we should assume they're dead just yet, but with so little weapons it would be unwise to go and look for them. Please, Toris, don't give up on Feliks yet, you know he wouldn't leave you alone like this."

"I agree with you, Yao." England nodded. "I really am sorry, Toris."

"Don't even bother, Arthur." Lithuania interrupted coldly. "I don't want your-"

"Er… guys?" Russia suddenly interrupted quietly.

"What?" China asked, reluctantly turning to the blond who had gotten up from his seat at the window and was now staring at them all.

"I think the others are back."

"Really?" Lithuania asked excitedly, a relieved grin spreading across his face.

"Da, but… slight problemski."

"What is it?"

"They seem to have brought some friends with them…"

"What?!" Hungary shrieked, and she was about to shove Russia out of the way to press her face against the glass when the door was thrown open and a red-faced, out of breath Poland stumbled to the ground – closely followed by France, Japan and Greece who looked equally as dishevelled.

"Feliks!" Lithuania cried, kneeling beside him in a panic. "What's happened? Are you hurt? What took you so long?"

"I-I'm f-fine!" Poland gasped, and indeed he looked no worse for wear. "And so… are the others. There were so… many of them we… we couldn't fight them all off…"

"We had to make a run for it and we… we left all the food." Japan confessed, panting just as heavily as Poland. It seemed as if they had all been running hard for a long time, as none seemed to be able to form a sentence without stopping to gasp for breath.

"Great." America groaned, putting his head in his hands. "We needed that food so badly, now we're going to have to send another group out tomorrow."

"Um… I don't think that's our biggest concern at the moment, Alfred." Taiwan said slowly, peering out of the window with a scared and horrified expression on her face.

"What's wrong?" England rushed to the window as well, peering over her shoulder at the ground below them. What little colour he had in his face slowly drained at the sight, and he swallowed audibly. "We have a slight… situation…" He said, staring down at the huge crowd of infected that were clawing and shoving against the frozen gates – the only thing that barred them from entering. As he watched he could see the gates were being bent over slightly, unable to cope with such a weight being applied to it. England knew that if the gates gave way the wooden doors and the barrier would buy them only a minute or so of time before the creatures got in, and that would mean that everyone would be finished.

"The gates aren't going to hold." Taiwan murmured, looking up at England for guidance. He paused, trying to rack his brain for some idea, some magical way to get them all out safely. Suddenly, before he could open his mouth to speak, there was a deafening smash as the gate fell to the ground. The infected didn't stop for a second, immediately surging forwards with roars and groans as they started running full force at the doors.

"What do we do?!" Wy shrieked, clutching at Seborga and Sealand tightly as loud thumps and smashes made themselves heard through the room. They didn't have long…

"We make a run for it, right now." America said before anyone else could come up with a plan. "Out the back entrance."

"But if they get through the front door then we won't stand a chance!" Belgium cried, trembling violently.

"Then let's get out before they can get through."

It seemed as if someone had pressed hot red pokers to the countries in the room, for at once they all leapt to their feet and started snatching up their possessions – their little clothing and weapons, and whatever blankets and food they could find. In their panic, everyone started yelling and screaming – exciting the zombies outside even further and causing them to slam on the door even harder. The barricade, the only thing holding them back, started to shudder and move an inch – their time was running out. England started roaring at people to leave the room, shoving a few of them out in a bid to get everyone to safety. Germany, for a horrifying second, thought that he'd be left to die by the others. He could neither get to his feet nor start walking without assistance and everyone seemed too pre-occupied with getting themselves away that no one was trying to help him. Finally, saviours arrived in the form of Switzerland and America, who both put a hand under his arms and started to haul him out of the room.

"Run faster!" Spain was crying to the others, particularly Italy and Romano, who were far behind after Romano had to drag his little brother faster. Down the corridors they ran, fear turning to panic and terror as they got closer to the front door – their only other way out being down a corridor opposite the entrance. Then, almost without warning, the barricade and the door collapsed under the force of those outside and the moans and wails became deafening – the UN had finally been breached. The nations started screaming as they ducked around the flailing arms and faces of the undead – each now focused on their safety and only their safety. China, who had been at the front of the mad crowd, suddenly found himself tripping over Netherlands' feet and crashing to the floor with a cry. No one stopped to help him, however, and some even kicked him in their bids for escape. China began to cry out for help, finding his ankle twisted badly and agonising to move.

The countries in front of him seemed to almost forget his existence on the floor as they continued, that is until they heard the screams. China's awful, blood-curdling shrieks of agony reached them only seconds later as the creatures swarmed on him – biting at him and tearing into his skin. It killed them to have to leave him, but they knew that he was a goner and there was nothing they could do – at that moment they needed to focus on getting themselves out. All but one.  
Taiwan stopped dead in her tracks, turning around and clenching her fists. Dammit, she should be getting herself to safety – China wasn't going to live now so why should she care? But she did care, she didn't think she would but it was torture to hear her old teacher screaming for help. To see him so vulnerable...  
"Come on, Xiao!" Spain yelled, trying to pull her away, but she shrugged out of his grasp and turned to him with a determined look.

"You go," She said, "don't worry about me."

"But…" Spain paused for a second, swallowing, and then he nodded – his hand falling to his side. He gave her one look that told her 'good luck' and 'farewell' all in one, and then he was running after the others. Taiwan took a deep breath, pulling out her pistol and turning to the crowd of zombies ahead of her. She started wildly shooting, mowing them down and making her way gradually over to where China lay. The zombies around him that were ripping into his flesh fell to the floor with loud thumps, and suddenly he let out a wail of agony as she gripped his arms and dragged him into one of the side rooms; locking the door as she shut it.

"What… are you… doing?" He whispered feebly, looking up at her with rapidly dulling eyes. "You need to… get out… of… here now…"

"No." She shook her head, feeling hot tears stinging at her eyes. "I'm not leaving you."

"Don't be… stupid.." He mumbled, his words starting to slur. "Don't worry about… me…"

"I have to." She whispered, taking hold of his hand and squeezing it tight to let him know she was there for him. "I don't want you to leave me with all the bad memories we've had. I know we've argued a lot, and I've been rude to you, and I'm sorry for that, Yao. I don't want you thinking I hate you, because I don't… you've always been my favourite teacher, even if I didn't show it. I'm not going to leave you alone now."

"Th… thanks, Xiao." He managed a weak smile, and as the thumps against the door that they were in started to get louder his eyes slowly fluttered closed and his breath caught in his throat. Taiwan bit her lip, tears trickling down her cheeks as she looked upon her fallen teacher, and then she held his hand tighter.  
"Zàijiànle, zhōngguó." She whispered, closing her eyes as the door was ripped off its hinges and, in barely a second, she was engulfed by the horde of snarling creatures…

* * *

Sealand gasped, his back hitting the wall as he tried to retreat. The undead that surrounded him seemed to be teasing him – trying to prolong his fear and desperation – for they moved so much slower than the others had. Their hands were outstretched towards him in an almost typical way – how he had imagined a zombie attack would be like. He scanned the room around him – wondering how he had ended up here when he had been trying to find his way out of the UN. After all, he had only been here twice and he didn't know his way around, when he lost the other countries how was he meant to find an escape? He supposed this was what he got for being such a pathetic nation, and not living up to his potential. He could have gotten safely out of this had people just recognised him and helped him out, but he had been too annoying and forceful – everyone had simply forgotten to try and rescue him. He didn't want to die, he was too young to die – he hadn't seen the world or done everything he had hoped to do as a nation. He wanted to finally see the day that England recognised him, and the day that he could become as powerful as some of the others. He had so much to live for, and yet still he had nothing. No one would really care if he was gone, would they? No one would cry over him or wish that they had come after him, because no one liked him. Maybe Seborga and Wy would find a brief moment of sadness, but that would be over and done with almost in an instant.

Sealand had nothing to live for.  
Better him than some of the other important countries like America and England…  
Better the annoying little boy that no one liked…  
But he still didn't want to die.

"Peter!" Came a shout and, startled, Sealand looked up. England was stood in the doorway, wide-eyed as he took in the massive horde of things around him. No, he must have been hallucinating, for England wouldn't come back for him or care that he was about to be torn to pieces.  
America, America was there as well. He was holding England back, yelling something about it being impossible and that they had to get out while they could. But England refused to budge, fighting furiously against the younger blond's grasp and trying to reach the boy.

"Peter!" England cried again, "we don't have time, you have to jump!"

"There's no way I can jump over them." Sealand shouted, clambering up onto a desk in a desperate bid to avoid the hands of the zombies around him. "Just go! Leave me while you have the chance!"

"I can't leave you, Peter!"

"Arthur, there are too many of them!" America hollered in his partner's ear, looking behind him and seeing more of the infected starting to creep towards them. "If we don't go now we're finished too!"

"Arthur, just leave me." Sealand called, his surprised look falling and a serious expression replacing it that contrasted with his child-like face. "It's okay, you know."

"I can't leave you!" England protested, still squirming in America's grip. "Please, Peter!"

"You don't owe me anything. You've saved my life once already, so it's I who owes you."

"No… no!"

"England, you're worth more alive than me. I'm nothing, useless, and everyone would be better off without me. You're loved and needed by others, so by goodness you're going to leave me and save yourself."

"Arthur!" America screamed.

"Go." Sealand nodded to England, his eyes sparkling fiercely as, finally, the clammy hands wrapped around his ankles and dragged him to the floor and out of sight.

"Peter!" Arthur shrieked, but America was suddenly holding him up by the waist and carrying him off. He screamed, kicked at America and struggled all he could – trying to reach the tiny nation and save him. He couldn't let Sealand die, he couldn't! It wasn't right! He begged America to let him go, choking on his tears that poured down his face, yet every second he was getting further and further away from the zombies and the room. Every second, Peter's pain that was voiced in high-pitched wails and shrieks got quieter and quieter. Then, finally – and for the last time -, Peter Kirkland fell silent…


	8. Refuge

**I had to cut this short because it's getting late and, of course, today is CANADA'S BIRTHDAY! HAPPY BIRTHDAY MATTIE, I HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN YOU! I've been crazily happy all day, and in a minute I'm going to go draw him! So, in advance, sorry for the short chapter. I'll try and update it on the 4th! And the contents of this chapter are sort of dedicated to my friend, Katie, who was desperate for this XP**

* * *

"Shut the door!"

"Put something against it as well!"

"Don't say that! I don't want to die!"

"We're all going to die!"

"Everyone shut up!" Lithuania yelled, and suddenly the room went silent. "Now what we shouldn't do is panic, okay? Right, first thing's first, where are the matches?"

"In my bag." Poland replied, and from within the darkness came the sounds of him rummaging through his rucksack and throwing clothes and blankets across the room. "Do you want the torch as well?"

"Please."  
With a click, a bright beam of light was shone around the room until Poland found Lithuania's face – making the latter wince – and threw the equipment towards him. Lithuania started to search the room around him, looking for something they could burn to give them some light. Immediately he found a fireplace and grinned, starting to look for things to throw in the fireplace. It didn't take long – a few books and some floorboards from a spare room – and they had a fire crackling merrily. Finally, the group could see the flat they were in and the worn, beaten faces of their fellow nations. More importantly those who weren't there. France, Russia, Greece, Netherlands, Hungary, Liechtenstein and Romano had all failed to make it with the others.  
Their escape had taken them well into the night, navigating through tight alleyways and trying to shake off the increasingly large horde of infected behind them. It was obvious that some would be separated from the others, but they hadn't expected such a large number. It had come as a huge blow after the deaths of three countries and had left even more people standing silently in shock. Spain at first had been adamant that Romano had to be with them – the Italian had been running in front of him, it was impossible for him to become separated. Switzerland had been just as agitated about Liechtenstein, for she had been running side by side with him for almost the whole journey and she was too vulnerable to be on her own. However, after a while they realised that yelling at the others would do them no good and they calmed down – resigning themselves to sitting on their own. This left only Poland, Lithuania, Italy, Estonia and Canada who were in any state to help out.  
"Eduard, Matthew and Alfred, can you have a look around the house please?" Lithuania asked, and the three nodded – moving out of the room with a torch. That left the other three to watch over their friends in the room. Wy had her head buried in Seborga's shoulder, and her body shook with the sobs that racked through her. He had his arms wrapped around her – tears of his own rolling down his cheeks for their fellow micro-nation. Latvia was also crying, listening numbly to the comforting words of Belgium and allowing her to gently rub his back. Japan, who until then had been curled up on his own, cautiously sat beside England. The crackling embers illuminated the Brit's face, and Japan could see the tear tracks on his bleak, grimy face.  
"I-Igirisu-san, are you okay?" He asked tentatively, and the younger blond nation looked up at him.

"Not really." He croaked, wiping his eyes.

"I'm sorry about Peter-kun." Japan said softly, and England sniffed.

"Thank you… I'm sorry about Xiao and Yao as well. I know… Kiku! You're crying!" England's eyes widened in surprise as he looked at the raven-haired country, watching tears trickle steadily down his cheeks. His eyes were firmly shut, yet he was trembling slightly and his knuckles where white with the force of him clenching his fists. For a moment England could only watch in amazement, and then he realised that he should probably do something to comfort Japan. Hesitantly, knowing the other's dislike for physical contact, he put a hand on Japan's arm and shuffled over a little closer. The ravenette froze for a moment, and then he blinked away some more tears and slowly put his head on England's shoulder.

"S-sorry, Igirisu-san." He choked. "This is silly of me."

"Nonsense." England frowned, wiping a stray tear from his own face. "It's only natural, I know that deep down they were both very special to you." He then panicked slightly as Japan only cried harder, tears pouring down his face at an alarming rate. Wondering what he'd done wrong, he started frantically patting Japan, trying to calm him down. "I'm sorry, Kiku, I… I…"

"No, you're right!" He sobbed. "They were special to me. They were my family and I n-never told them that! I mean… I was fond of Xiao, but Yao raised me and I… I just turned on him…"

"We all make mistakes, Kiku, I'm sure Yao understood." England murmured, and then he pulled Japan in a tight hug. Japan didn't stiffen this time, and melted into his arms, sniffling into England's shirt and feeling comforted by the Brit's hand rubbing gentle circles on his back as if he was a small child. "Now try and be strong for them both, okay?"

"H-hai." He nodded obediently. "And you be strong for Peter-kun and Alfred-san."

"I will." England said, his voice becoming thick as he released Japan. The latter then smiled weakly, before turning away to go and join Germany and Italy over in one side of the room. England sighed, pointlessly straightening his torn clothes and trying to remove the evidence of him crying before heading over to where everyone else was gathered – Estonia, America and Canada having returned to the room after scouring the house.

"So what did you find, guys?" Lithuania asked.

"It's a huge apartment!" America exclaimed, grinning. "We're obviously somewhere posh. There are a few random rooms that won't be any use to us – the kitchen and a child's play room – but there are 3 bedrooms. One has a double bed and the other two are twin rooms."

"That's good." Poland grinned, yet he couldn't help but wonder where the person who used to own this house was now. Was there a child? What had happened to them? Were they still alive? He felt a sudden sadness sweep across him, remembering that most of his citizens who had respected him and been proud to be a part of him were dead, or worse than dead. How many citizens did it take to keep him alive? For, of course, if a country was no longer inhabited it would dissolve. Would it be when his population had decreased so much that it would never be able to recover, or would he be able to function properly with only one citizen?

"Feliks?" Lithuania asked softly, seeing his partner's face. "Are you okay?"

Poland forced a bright smile across his face as he leaned down to peck Lithuania's nose. "Of course I'm alright, Liet. I was just thinking, that's all."

"Okay…" Lithuania seemed to believe him, and then returned to the conversation of where everyone was going to sleep. It was eventually agreed that, as the youngest, Latvia, Seborga and Wy could have a bed each. Japan put forward Canada for a bed, as the blond looked weak on his feet, and of course Germany was immediately put forward to have the double bed while he recovered.

"Feli, do you want to share with him?" Poland asked, making Italy flush.

"Ve~ Si, grazie, so I can keep an eye on him." Italy chirped happily, which made everyone smile. It was amazing that, after everything he had been through and with his brother missing, Italy could still remain his usual, happy self and manage to spread it to others. It was people like him the group needed to keep sane.

"That's settled then." Lithuania nodded, satisfied. "That leaves the rest of us to set up here. There are two sofas that… Laura and Kiku, you can have. Everyone else, on the floor!" He beamed, as if the floor was the most appealing option. He didn't really mind where he slept, as long as everyone else was being taken care of and was happy then he wouldn't complain. The floor wasn't all _that _bad. "I think we should all try and get some sleep. We'll be able to look for the others in the morning and it's been a horribly stressful day."

"That sounds like a good idea." Estonia yelled, spreading out his blanket on the floor and making himself as comfortable as possible.

"Goodnight, everyone." Japan called groggily from the sofa, and he received murmurs and groans in return before, almost immediately, falling into a restless, haunted sleep…


	9. Moving on

_Day 34_

"Is everyone ready to go?" England spoke softly, slinging his tattered rucksack over his shoulder and glancing around at the group around him – all similarly holding bags and rucksacks of their own. They were moving onwards, away to another flat a few miles away from the one they were currently residing in. They had decided that they would change their living quarters once a week to make finding food and other resources easier and to try to find safer, quieter areas where they could settle down more comfortably without the constant risk of being attacked. Besides, this flat held bad memories of Pet- no, the _others_. England refused to say or even think about the little blond British boy for fear of breaking down. He had to be realistic – his friends and family were going to all inevitably be lost, as was he, at some point and he couldn't simply allow himself to stay in a depressed and vulnerable state for long. The less he dwelled on the little blue-eyed child the easier it would be to forget, and the more he could focus on helping and comforting the others. He still hadn't forgotten Japan's words to him – _'and you be strong for Alfred-san'. _He skipped over the first name, instead remembering how Alfred was still so young and almost naïve and now, more than ever, needed Arthur by his side. How would the American cope if England allowed himself to sit around in a haze of grief as some of the other, weaker countries were doing? No, England would not allow himself to become so helpless. He placed a look of blazing determination on his face as he scanned the dirty, greasy-haired – for there were no showers any more, and especially no shampoo or conditioner – countries, all who looked battered and worn beyond belief. His eyes rested on one of them in particular.  
Japan was curled up on one of the sofas, holding himself tight as he whimpered quietly and occasionally thrashed about. He was sleeping, England could tell by how restless he was. At least he was actually sleeping – he hadn't seemed to be doing it a lot recently. Japan had been acting strangely over the past week. After their brief moment together he had become quite irritable and withdrawn, was prone to crying randomly – which of course England always sorted out himself, as he seemed to know exactly what to say to the older nation – and always seemed as if he was tired and having difficulty concentrating. England was beginning to worry…

"Yo, Artie, you coming?" America called from the doorway, looking at the older blond expectantly.

"What about Kiku? He's asleep…" England asked.

"Well wake him up, then! We need to go now!"

"Fine." England replied reluctantly, walking over to the sleeping raven-haired male and shaking him gently. Dulled brown eyes fluttered open and met his emerald, and Japan frowned slightly.

"What's wrong, Arthur-san?"

"Sorry about this, Kiku, but we need to move on and Al is getting rather impatient."

"Oh… of course," he gave a small nod and reached over for his small bag of belongings – which he had packed the night before in preparation to leave. Without another word he swept up his jacket and hurried to join the others, leaving England to cast an icy glare at America when the latter wasn't looking.

"Right, is everyone ready _now_?" America asked, his voice almost demanding anyone to tell him they weren't ready, and so everyone stayed silent. With a grin, he flung open the door and started marching people outside into the alley outside the house. The bright sun took them all by surprise considering the awful weather they had been having recently, and they all winced slightly at the glare of light and the scorching heat.  
"Brilliant." Poland groaned. "We're going to get even hotter and sweatier out here, and I can't even take a bubble bath, I'm going to look hideous!"

"You're never hideous, Feliks." Lithuania muttered, earning himself a beautiful beam from his boyfriend.

"Blurgh." America wrinkled his nose teasingly, for some reason in surprisingly good spirits. "Enough of that, please. Artie, up front!"

"Yes sir." England said sarcastically, jogging past the others to join America, Poland and Lithuania at the front of the group. America slipped their hands together, smiling at his partner, before turning to Poland.

"Which way are we going?"

"Er…" The Polish man paused, thinking hard to when he had explored the area around them for a suitable new place to inhabit. "I think we go left…"

"You _think_?" Canada raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not the best at remembering things, okay?" Poland said defensively, and he raised his hands. "We have a 50/50 chance of getting it right if we go left, so let's try left."

"Alright." He sighed. "I suppose it won't _hurt _to try left, but if we get lost I'm blaming you."

"Fine by me." Poland grinned, leading the way down a tighter alleyway. Latvia held tightly onto Estonia's hand as they travelled further down and it steadily got darker and darker – trembling slightly.

"It's only a bit of dark, Raivis." Estonia sighed, "Nothing's going to hurt you in here."

"But, Eduard." He whined uneasily. "What if any of the infected are down here? There isn't anywhere we can run or hide to get away from them."

"Rest assured, if any of them are down here or behind us then Feliks or Vash is going to get it, not us." He smiled reassuringly at the smaller nation and managed to coax a small chuckle from him. "Anyway, we're all armed and it's still light enough to see anything that's coming towards us."

"I… I guess, but-" He started, but then gave a shriek of terror as a loud gurgle sounded from nearby. Almost everyone reached for their various weapons immediately, scanning the restricted area around them for any signs of one of the infected. Another gurgle was heard, but it sounded almost as if whatever was making the noise wanted to be found. Poland, who had paled slightly, stepped cautiously around the bend of the alleyway and clutched his gun tighter in his hand for comfort. For a few moments he squinted around in the darkness, and then the gun fell to the floor with a loud clatter and he was gasping for Lithuania.

"The torch! Give me the torch!" He squeaked, and obediently Lithuania scrambled around in his rucksack for the small light. Poland snatched for the cold piece of metal as soon as the brunette had found it and shone the light onto the ground. It illuminated familiar beige-blond bangs and violet eyes that seemed dulled with the lack of energy.  
"I-I-Ivan." Poland stuttered, looking as though he was unsure of what to do. Russia was lying on the floor, covered in the sticky wetness of his own blood that seemed to flow from his throat – and despite the darkness the others could see a large chunk of flesh was gouged out of his neck. Latvia, upon seeing this, whimpered loudly and buried his face in Estonia's clothes – quivering not only at the sight of the Russian who terrified him so much, but at the gore.

"F-Feliks." He choked, a small amount of blood dribbling down his chin as he tried to speak. "You… found… me."

"How long have you been here?" Poland asked, shakily kneeling down next to him.

"I don't k-know… Long enough."

"W-what happened?"

"There were… too many of them." A flicker of a smile crossed his face. "Even for me…"

"What happened a week ago, when we got separated?" Poland pressed on, anxious to get as much information on the others as possible before the Russian lost all energy.

"D-don't know… I just lost you. I was with… the others… you know… Lovino, Lili, Francis, Elizabeta and Heracles.. F-Francis and Heracles went down… first. Not long before me…"  
England's eyes widened, and his gaze darted to Japan briefly. The dark-haired nation didn't seem to react to the news of Greece's death at all – his eyes simply appeared to lose even more of their emotion. Maybe he accepted that his friend had already been lost when they were separated, or maybe he was just locking up all emotion inside of himself. Either way, he didn't move, or make a noise – unlike Canada. The blond's eyes filled with tears and he took in a sharp breath. England could understand his friend's pain – France had been a father to Canada before England had taken him and the two had shared a special bond. But Russia didn't seem to notice this, and he continued to talk.  
"W-where's Yao?" He mumbled, his eyes sinking ever so slightly as he looked around.

"He…" Poland paused, considering for a moment. "He's looking for you right now."

"H-he is?" Russia's face brightened slightly. "He m-missed me, da?"

"Yes." Poland nodded, "and he'll be back any minute now."

"Good." The Russian smiled, and slowly his eyes began to close. "I think… I'll rest here for a minute. Wake me up when… he gets here, da?"

"O-of course."

"Thank you." With one last sigh, Russia's eyes closed and he became still. Poland bowed his head, his nails digging hard into his palm before he got up and angrily kicked the wall.

"Damn it!" He cursed. "Damn it all! I hated him but… why does everyone have to die? Why is this happening?"

"Don't think like that." Lithuania said softly, squeezing his hand. "No matter what, they're all in a better place now."

"That's bullcrap, Liet, and you know it!" He snapped, pulling his hand out of the brunette's. Lithuania cringed, his lips tightening.

"It might be," he said with a wavering voice. "but it makes me feel better about everyone else. You're not the only person to have lost friends, remember that." And with that, he turned around and walked away from his partner, turning his attention to Canada. The blond had sunk to the floor, head in his hands and his whole body shaking – indicating that he was crying. Lithuania put a hand on his back, rubbing slow circles like Poland so often did for him when he was upset.  
"Please don't cry, Matthew." He whispered. "Francis wouldn't want you to be so upset."

"I know…" Canada said quietly, sniffling. "But I can't help it. He was my papa, what am I going to do without him?"

"You've _always _got me, bro." America said, also coming to sit beside Canada. "I promise not to leave you alone ever again, buddy."

"Thanks, Al." Canada smiled, resting his head on his older brother's shoulder and attempting to stop the flow of tears down his cheeks. "No matter what the others say, you're the best brother I could ever have."

Nearby, England hesitantly approached Japan. He hated how much his friend had had to go through, and he hated that he had to always comfort him. It wasn't fair that those Japan held dear were slowly, one by one, losing their lives when others had their families mostly intact.  
"Kiku, you probably don't want to talk to me right now-" He started.

"I do." Japan interrupted, his eyes remaining closed as he slumped against the brick wall of the alleyway. "I don't want to be ignored."

"I'm so sorry, Kiku, about everyone."

"Please, don't apologise for what isn't your fault. It's I who should be apologising for acting so distant lately. It's just… it's been a very long time since I lost a friend, or three…I don't know…how to react…I don't know how I should feel. But I can't stop crying."

"I understand." The Brit nodded, smiling sadly and softly squeezing his shoulder in comfort. "And if it makes you feel any better, I think that to live in the hearts of those we love is not to die."

Japan's eyes opened slowly, and he turned to face his friend. "I think that too, Arthur-san, I think that too."

* * *

**Hey hey, everyone! This has taken longer than I thought because I was out at a sleepover on Saturday and I've been out... wait for it... SUNBATHING! I hope this heatwave lasts because, frankly, I love summer and obviously in England I don't get a lot of it. I feel a bit fat as well, I've had two massive ice creams xD Anyways, this chapter is a bit of a waffle again but I can promise many things for the next chapter! I've slightly depressed myself playing on HetaOni and reading about Episode 23.5 - which managed to make me cry, it was horrible! I was also reading this headcanon, which says that:**

**'When nations die, they don't go to heaven or hell, they're not human. Instead they go to a place they simply refer to as 'Limbo'. It's an odd place, it looks just like the Earth, there are trees and rivers, animals of all kinds... yet not one single human... it's a very large, very lonely place... But it's alright, the nations of days past spend their time together and by watching over the loved ones they left behind.'**

**I think that's quite a sweet thought, especially for a fic like this. It's where I imagine all the countries go afterwards. But back to the story, thanks for reading! :D**


	10. So what now?

They didn't know how long they'd been in that cramped, dark alleyway for. It might have been hours, or maybe just minutes. No one spoke once, nor did anyone move – all anyone could do was think. It wasn't safe for any of them anymore. They had always known how dangerous life would be since the epidemic, but no one had expected to lose so many…. Maybe this really was the end, and they really would all fall eventually. It was a grim, harrowing thought that distressed them all, many of them tried to shove it to the back of their minds, yet there was no escape from the truth and the appalling reality. Russia was proof of what they were so terrified of – lying just a few metres away from them in the darkness.  
Eventually, it was America who stood up and broke the eerie silence that had fallen over everyone.  
"We're leaving the city."

Heads snapped up from all directions at the same time, all of them in the direction of the young blond who had dared to order them about. For a moment, no one said anything, and then-  
"Are you crazy?" Switzerland croaked. "Where would we go?"

"Anywhere but here," was the response, "somewhere quiet and out of the way, where it will be safer."

"And how exactly do you plan on getting us there? The roads are all clogged up! It took you hours to get out to look for Italy, and it'll be dark before we even get out to look for somewhere to set up camp."  
America had frowned, for the Swiss man's voice was harsh all of a sudden. In reality, all Switzerland could think about was a flash of short blonde locks, sparkling malachite eyes much like his own and her happy giggle. It had been a week since he had last seen his younger adoptive sister, and just over a day since Estonia had delivered some… news. The blond had returned from a foraging trip with Latvia and Lithuania to find America in the middle of a heated argument with Switzerland and Spain over their plans to move on the next day. Spain and Switzerland had argued that they didn't know if Romano and Liechtenstein were truly gone and they couldn't just get up and move without knowing…

_"Vash." America said softly. "You have to realise the chances of Lili-"_

_"Don't you_ dare_!" The green-eyed nation snapped furiously. "Don't you __dare try and talk to me about her! I know her, she's tougher than she seems! She might still be… there's a chance and you know it."_

_"A chance," America repeated, "exactly, only a chance. I can't risk the group's safety for a slim possibility… surely you understand."_

_"No!" Switzerland shook his head. "No, I don't! All of you are so… so selfish and hypocritical. You use the same reasons whenever one of the larger countries is missing, you risk the safety of the group then! But as soon as it's Lili or… or Feliks or anyone even_ slightly_ less significant you don't want to know."_

_"Lili and Lovi have been gone for less than a week!" Spain interjected. "You went after Feliciano after a week and he didn't even have anyone with him when he went missing. You took the risk though, and it turned out he was alive and well. What if Lovi's the same? You're just going to… move on as if he and Lili don't exist?"_

_"They don't," came a murmur, "not anymore."_

_Slowly, with wide and confused eyes, Spain and Switzerland turned to face Estonia, who had just stood up. He swallowed slightly before continuing. "I saw them earlier, on the trip. They were already gone, I couldn't do anything. Toris and Raivis saw them as well." And then Estonia shot Latvia a look, and the smaller country quivered slightly as he looked into his friend's eyes._

_"Y-yes." He stuttered, his face having paled of what little colour that was in his cheeks. "We d-did. It was… horrible." He shuddered, and then retreated behind the older Baltic as if terrified of Switzerland or Spain attacking him. From beside them both, Lithuania also hesitantly nodded in agreement._

_"You saw them both?" Spain squeaked, his voice going unnaturally high and what sparkle had remained in his eyes throughout the weeks of this nightmare dulled instantly. "A-are you sure?"_

_"I'm sure." Estonia replied in a monotone voice, his face remaining devoid of emotion as he stared at the two men. "I'm sorry."_

Switzerland shuddered at the memory, trying to shake it from his mind. His eyes burned with tears, though he forced them down as he had when he had been told the news. His throat constricted painfully with the effort of keeping the hot tears brimming over his eyes – he refused to let the rest of the group see him in such a weak, vulnerable state as he always got into when he cried. Others, such as Japan, had been through a lot more than him and if they could deal with it so could he… couldn't he? He was strong – stronger than Spain at least, who had broken down shortly after being told the news about Romano and had cried often since for his 'tomate' – and he was going to keep it that way, even if he was extremely reluctant to accept that his little sister was well and truly gone. When Estonia had told him his whole body had screamed 'liar! You're lying to me', yet he couldn't deny that the idea of her being gone had been niggling at him for a while. Maybe it was better that she was no longer in the world that had come to be, and soon he'd see her on the other side – wherever that was. She had to be in a better place….

"We'll go on foot until we get out of the city, and then we'll find a car." America finally answered after a considerable pause, interrupting Switzerland's train of thought.

"But we need to stock up on supplies." Seborga added, frowning. "There won't be nearly as much food out of the city as there is in it."

"Ah…" America frowned, obviously not having considered this problem. With 15 members in the group and Germany still recovering from his injuries they had needed a lot of food and medical supplies that they could only get a lot of in the city. "Well, maybe a group of three could go for supplies and stop back at the flat for the night and we'll come get them in the morning. That way we don't have to spend all day tomorrow looking for supplies when we could be building protection and resting."

"It's as good a plan as any." Poland said happily, "But who's gonna stay behind and, like, get the stuff?"

"I will." Belgium volunteered, raising her hand.

"Me too." Came the soft voice of Canada, startling almost everyone who hadn't noticed him standing in the group. America nodded, if a little hesitantly – he didn't want his brother getting hurt at all, but he felt as though Canada could take care of himself. The blond looked around for another member of the group to step forwards, but was met only with shuffles and averted eyes.

"I will." Finally came the determined, if not a little nervous, voice of the red-headed Italian. Germany looked about to protest, but Italy interrupted whatever he was about to say. "I haven't been of much use to the group apart from cooking, and I want to do something to help you guys. Let me go, please?"

"Alright then," America smiled at the smaller man. "You deserve a chance, Feli. Are you two cool with that?" He directed the question to Belgium and Canada, who both nodded. "Meet up tomorrow morning in the flat, 'kay?"

"Right, boss." Italy chirped ecstatically, before bending over to gently hug Germany. "Ve~ I'll see you tomorrow, Doitsu."

"Keep safe, Feli." He croaked, before America gently helped him to his feet. Led by Belgium and Canada, Italy soon disappeared around a corner of the alleyway with a new weapon in his hands – a large pipe that Russia had possessed previously.

"We should probably be going, then." Estonia said loudly, and the rest of the group clambered to their feet obediently.

"What about Ivan?" Lithuania whispered, and Poland stopped dead in his tracks, turning back to the brunette in confusion.

"What about him?" He demanded.

"We're… we're not going to just leave him here, are we?"

"What do you expect us to do with him, like, bury him?" Poland forced out a laugh, but it sounded almost mocking and Lithuania winced.

"I want to bury him, yes." He breathed, but he said it in such a small, scared voice that Poland struggled to hear it. However, his eyes narrowed and anger touched his features.

"You want to _bury _that scum?!" He growled, stepping menacingly towards his boyfriend. "After, like, everything he did to you? After he gave you all those scars? He treated you, Raivis and Eduard, like, as if you were shit and you totally still want to bury him like you would a loved one?!"

"No one deserves to die, Feliks. I know he was a monster and he was cruel, but he was one of us too and he had his nice times. No matter what he did, I can't just leave him here for those… those things to get him." Lithuania trembled, fighting down tears as he looked at the blond. For a moment Poland stared, open-mouthed, and then a small sigh escaped his lips.

"Do whatever you want, but I'm totally not helping you bury him."

"I wouldn't expect you to." Lithuania nodded, and looked down on the dead Russian.

"Just where do you plan on burying him?" Switzerland questioned. "And what if he comes back as one of the infected while you're doing it?"

"I'll bury him when we find a new place to stay. We can find a wheelbarrow or something to pull him along in. As for whether he comes back…" The brunette bit his lip, looking down at the gun in his hand and back to Russia.

"Not with a gun." The blond shook his head. "Too much noise will attract the infected and then we'll all be dead. Use this." And then Switzerland passed Lithuania a large, yet thin, silver blade. The Lithuanian's eyes widened slightly as he gripped the handle of the knife, his hand shaking. He was prepared to shoot someone if it meant that they wouldn't be turned into one of the creatures, but to stab someone in the head? Sure, he'd killed people in Wars in much more brutal ways, but this was someone he had known for Centuries… how could he possibly manage such a task? Estonia, seeing Lithuania's pause, silently took the dagger from his grip.  
"I'll do it." He murmured, and Lithuania gave him a weak, grateful smile. Latvia looked terrified as Estonia stepped into the darkness, out of their view, and he made up for it by grabbing onto Lithuania's sleeve and gripping it tightly. All they heard was a slicing, then a slight squelching, sound and a murmur of Estonia's words of farewell. Then, the blond stepped back out in the light. He was relatively clean still, though his hand was splattered from Russia's blood and there were a few drops of red on his face. Latvia whimpered, though he still removed his jacket and started dabbing Estonia's face clean from the blood of the Russian.  
"Thank you, Raivis." He said quietly, before throwing Switzerland his knife back and turning away from the darkness he had just been in.

"Right then." America said, frowning in slight disgust and uncertainty. "Where are we going to get a wheelbarrow from?"

* * *

**I'm so, so sorry for not updating this sooner, guys! I've had major writer's block on this chapter and couldn't think of anything to say. I'll try and get the next chapter, as I know exactly what's happening in it, out within the next few days. I don't say this enough, but thank you for the reviews that you give me, they really do make my day. Hope you enjoyed!**


	11. I'm the hero now

A turn of the head. A flick of the wrist in the direction of the alleyway. A small, chirping sound escaping from dry, cracked lips.  
"Why are you making funny gestures?" Italy called loudly from his position in between the two buildings, and Belgium – had they been in a different situation – would have face-palmed. She made frantic shushing gestures to the small brunette as the other wavy-haired blond ran out from his own hiding spot and joined her side.

"Feli, be quiet!" She squealed, looking around the street to check if anything had heard the Italian's loud voice. "Just come here now!"  
The amber-eyed boy obediently ran over like a dog who had just been called by its master, and smiled brightly at Canada and Belgium like nothing had happened. Belgium shook her head. "When I make those funny gestures that means you come straight to me, okay?"

"Ve~ Alright." He nodded, eyes slightly wider than they had been previously. "Where are we going now?"

"Well we have food," she gestured towards the two shopping trolleys – the only thing they could find to carry their large loads, which was unfortunate given the loud squeaking noises they made as they were wheeled along – that were stuffed full of various food items, mainly consisting of tinned foods and staples. Italy was especially happy about the amount of pasta ingredients they had found, as he had missed his country's meals. "Now all we need is medical supplies."

"I think we should get some personal hygiene items." Canada whispered, and Belgium looked surprised for a moment. "It's not like we have access to lots of water and everyone's quite dirty - we should probably try and keep cleaner."

"Ah, you're right." The girl agreed. "We'll get lots of deodorant and soap, I'm sure getting a tub of water to soak a sponge or something won't be too difficult."

"What about shampoo?" Italy questioned, pointing to his hair which was tangled and covered in grease. Given the lack of proper hygiene items no one had been using shampoo or conditioner and it had rapidly turned into a mess of filthy, grease-covered hair that was unpleasant for everyone.

"Don't worry about shampoo." She smiled, though the temptation to take some and finally get rid of the filth was overwhelming. "It's been almost 5 weeks since we've used any, in another week or so our hair should start to self-clean and it'll look better than it ever did with shampoo."

"Really?" He asked, eyes sparkling. "That's so cool!"

"Guys, maybe now isn't the best time to stop and chat." Canada interrupted; gesturing towards a lonely infected who was walking towards them at a less than slow pace. "We should hurry up and get the stuff, then we can get back to the flat and have some food. I don't know about you two but I'm starving."

"Yeah, that sounds like a plan." The blonde woman grinned, "I'm hungry as well."  
With that, the three of them set off down the street in search of a decent shop to scavenge supplies from. It didn't take long to find a pharmacy, where they started shoving every product on the shelf into the counter's plastic bags – only ignoring things such as beauty products. Canada headed into a room behind the counter, presumably where they kept the more serious drugs, because he walked out with arms stuffed with various packets of tablets.  
"This will be enough for Luddie, won't it?" Italy asked anxiously as another bag full of drugs was dropped into the shopping cart. "To make him better, of course."

"It won't straight away, but the bandages and medicine will definitely speed it up and make sure he doesn't get an infection." Was his reply from the Canadian. Italy seemed content with this answer and started to help load the drugs into the trolley himself. When they had finished rummaging through the shop, however surprised they were that it hadn't been looted by anyone else, they happily strolled out of the shop and headed towards the alleyway that they had previously emerged from.

"Ve~ can we make pasta back at the flat?" Italy asked eagerly. "I'll make it, of course! And we can have some tomo- whoops! Oh no!" Italy leapt back as the trolley he had been steering crashed into one of the parked cars and, as looks of horror crossed Canada and Belgium's faces, the alarm started shrieking – high-pitched and loud enough to make Italy cover his ears and screw up his face.  
"Merde, merde, merde, merde!" Canada started cursing in French, stepping away from the car and turning a ghastly white colour as low moans and grunts started to make themselves heard from around them.

"We have to get out of here, now!" Belgium cried, grabbing Italy's hand and tugging him towards the alleyways. Canada followed suit, dragging their trolleys with surprising strength after them.

"Turn around, turn around!" Belgium suddenly shrieked, seeing the dulled eyes of the infected in the darkness of the alley. Italy wailed as one of them staggered towards him, snapping its jaws at the young Italian and lunging. Belgium dragged him out of the way, quickly changing their direction and turning back to where Canada was struggling with the trolleys.  
"Matthew!" She yelled, "Leave them! We'll come back for them later!" And he obeyed, immediately relinquishing his grasp on their medication and food and starting to sprint after them. He was surprisingly fast at running, and it didn't take him very long to overtake the others as he searched desperately for an alternative route back to the flat.

"Hurry up!" He shouted, his voice incredibly loud considering he usually talked in a barely-audible whisper. "I know another way!"

"Come on, Feli!" Belgium called to the brunette who, after having relinquished her grip on him, was slowly falling behind them. His heart was pounding both in fear and from the effort of running so fast for more than 10 seconds, and he could feel himself slowing with every minute that passed. He usually could run even faster than Canada but he was still in bad shape after the first week of the apocalypse and he was recovering from a bout of mild flu that he had contracted. He tried to force his legs faster, but stumbled slightly and gave a screech of surprise. Canada turned around, hearing his cry, but his pace did not falter.  
"Come on, Feli! Run faster!" He shouted, but the Italian was now gasping for breath.

"I… I c-can't." He choked, trying desperately to catch up. "I'm… not… that… fast. Just –"  
His words were cut off as, out of nowhere, one of the infected tumbled into him and knocked him to the ground. He let out a howl of pain as he slammed into the ground, and then his howls quickly turned into cries, and then screams. Canada stopped dead in his tracks, whirling around and starting to double back towards his terrified friend. Belgium too paused, before she saw the mass horde of creatures approaching from behind Italy and a look of panic crossed her face. Without a word she turned head on heels and started running – abandoning her two fellow nations without another thought.

"Laura!" Canada bellowed, but the female didn't even stop this time – disappearing within seconds. The blond shook all thoughts of her out of his mind as he reached Italy – using considerable force to shove the creature off the amber-eyed man and pulling him away.  
"Are you okay?" He asked, starting to push Italy forwards.

"I'm fine." He whimpered, though tears were streaming down his face and he had paled of all colour.

"Look, you keep running," Canada said, nudging him towards where Belgium had run off to once more. "I'll hold them back for a while. I've got a gun."

"No, come with me!" Italy protested, grabbing Canada's hand like a small child not wanting to be separated from his parent.

"Don't worry, I'll be right behind you." The violet-eyed man reassured him. "Don't try and go after Laura, go straight to the flat and I'll meet you there, okay?"

"O-okay." He nodded, quickening his pace from an uncertain walk backwards to a fast jog away from danger. As he got further away from the alleyway sudden, deafening gunshots startled him. Canada at least wasn't screaming.

_Day 35_

"Yo dudes, we're back!" America hollered as he burst through the door of the flat. England, who had been pressed against his side with the younger blond's arm around his waist, winced visibly and rubbed his ear.

"Git, don't shout when I'm right next to you." He complained, and America teasingly whispered "boo" with his lips pressed against his partner's ear.

"Ugh, will you stop with your incessant lovey-dovey gooey stuff?" Switzerland complained, pretending to throw up as he watched America plant a kiss on England's cheek. "You're worse than Toris and Feliks."

"Hey! I, like, totally heard that!" Poland complained from the back of the group, which earned a few chuckles from the group.

"Where the bloody hell is everyone?" England complained, peering around the dimly lit flat in slight annoyance.

"Mattie bro, you here?" America called. "Feli? Laura?"

"A-Alfred?" Came a quiet voice from the next room. It sounded scared and anxious, and the group hurried into the dining room that the voice had come from. Italy was leaning against the wall, absolutely no one else in the flat with him – yet that wasn't what startled the group. His clothes were torn, splattered with mud and gunk… and blood.

"What happened?!" Japan asked, hurrying over to his friend and kneeling over him. "Are you hurt? Where are Matthew-san and Laura-san?"

"I… I…" Italy faltered, and then promptly burst into tears. "I don't know! I accidentally set a car alarm off and then loads of zombies started coming from everywhere! Laura ran off when I fell over and Matthew helped me up. He told me to run here and… and that he'd be right behind me! He h-had a gun, but…"

America looked horrified. "Mattie tried to fight them off?" He asked in a disbelieving voice. With a nod from Italy he stepped backwards, eyes widening, and then he turned and hurried away.

"Al! Alfred!" England shouted, in turn following his boyfriend. Most of the group followed suit, yet Japan and Switzerland stayed behind to comfort the sobbing Italian in the room and help him to his feet.

America was running faster than he thought possible. Weaving through the alleyways, ignoring the shouts from England and the others for him to slow down. 'Mattie, Mattie'. The name was running through his mind constantly, where was his brother?! Matthew was nowhere to be found, nowhere-  
A gurgle. A hoarse, broken voice called out. America whirled around, facing the source of the noise. He saw a small, curled up figure on the ground and rushed over.  
"Oh god, Mattie." He whispered, fingers grasping at his brother's hand. The Canadian looked up, his eyes barely open, yet he couldn't even manage a smile. His clothes were soaked in blood, torn and showing the horrible wounds covering his small body. America knew that such wounds would have killed a human in no time, yet his brother had had to suffer all night. Canada's eyes were sinking, and America knew he was losing his grip on life, yet the wavy-haired blond seemed determined to say one thing.

"I… I tried…" He murmured.

"You did, I know you did!" America nodded rapidly. "Italy's safe, you kept him safe."

"I… I did?" Canada's eyes lit up weakly, and a tiny smile graced his features. America bit his lip furiously, attempting to stop the tears from trickling down his cheeks – yet he could feel the wetness on his face as he talked.

"You did, I'm so proud of you. You're a hero, Mattie."

Canada managed a weak grin. "I am… aren't I?" Alfred noticed his brother's grip on his hand was weakening. "But… Alfred, listen a m-minute. P-please… don't forget about me… I've b-been forgotten all… my life and… I don't want it."

"I'd never-" America choked.

"G-good…." Canada nodded weakly. "In… In that case… I love you, Al."

"No! Please don't say that, Mattie!" America begged, but his younger brother's eyes were already fluttering shut. Before he knew it, perfect French that he'd picked up from his younger brother was slipping past his lips. "S'il vous plaît, s'il vous plaît Matthieu! Je t'aime, je t'aime! Ne me quitte pas! S'il vous plaît!"

"Je… Je t'aime aussi… Alfred."

"Matthieu?!" America shook his brother, yet the small blond didn't move. His chest had stopped rising and falling weakly, and no words escaped his lips. America cried out, his breath escaping his lungs in a gush, and he cradled his brother's body close to his chest. "Matthieu… Mattie… Ma…." His eyes closed, and before he knew it he had thrown his head back. "Matthew!" He screamed as the heavens opened up and cold, bleak rain started to fall on America and his lost brother…


	12. When one becomes four

**Well that last chapter was just depressing to right, so I'm going to try and write something at least mildly positive. Also, I've just remembered that I'm an idiot and haven't included Kumajirou in this story! I'll try and drop him in at some point, especially now Canada's gone. I might, for realism's sake, also try to tone down the number of deaths, one every few chapters or something like that - I'm not sure yet. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the chapter.**

* * *

_Day 37_

Was that something... cold and wet... pressed against her forehead? And she could feel something soft and deliciously warm wrapped around her small body tightly, keeping her warmer than she had been for the past weeks. What was that on her wrist? Slightly cooler than her own skin, and soft despite how hard it was pressing down. Oh... fingers! Her eyes wouldn't open, yet she weakly swatted the fingers against her wrist - earning an exhale of breath that almost sounded like a chuckle from whoever was next to her.  
"I think she's waking up!" Exclaimed a voice that presumably belonged to the person in the room. It was familiar, that of a female who she definitely knew. That accent was recognizable... Suddenly there was another hand - though this was softer and more slender - placed on her own and, instinctively, her hand twitched. The bed creaked quietly in protest as the man sat himself down next to her, and she could almost feel his gaze burning into her.

"Yes, she is." This voice was cool, that of a male who she also recognized. "It should only be a few more minutes."  
She felt another shift as he climbed back to his feet, and the sounds of hard shoes tapping on the wooden floor as he waited, albeit slightly impatiently. Her eyes were fluttering slightly - she wished they would just open already, she rather wanted to know where she was with and who the two people with her were. It took a while but, gradually, her eyes began to flutter open. The room around her was at first blurred, and she couldn't make out anything. Slowly, she began to make out individual things in the room: a lamp sat on the bedside table next to her, emitting a painfully bright glow; the delicate white curtains fluttered in the gentle breeze coming through the window; and then there was a flash of blonde curls, and dark locks. Her eyes flashed with recognition and, now able to see perfectly, she sat bolt upright in her bed – regretting this decision when a wave of dizziness came over her. The blonde sat up and gently pushed her down, a smile creeping across her face.

"Elizabeta?" She spluttered, "R-Roderich?"

"Laura! You recognize us!" Hungary chirped happily to Belgium, a beam spreading across her face. "I'm glad, you've been out cold for over a day."

"I have?" Belgium demanded, trying to think back to when she might have been knocked out. How? She was just out with Canada and Italy…. What had happened?

"Yes, we're not really sure why though. We were just going out for medical supplies and we came across two abandoned shopping trolleys full of medicines and bandages. We weren't sure where they had come from so we took a look around; you were just lying on the floor. You're very lucky we reached you first, we even patched up your head!"

"I must confess I'm not the best at first aid, Laura, my apologies." Austria interjected, an apologetic look on his face as Belgium reached up and probed the large dressing on her forehead. It throbbed slightly, as if she had a headache, and she winced. Austria noticed, "It's quite a deep cut. I used antiseptic spray, however, so you shouldn't be in any danger of infection."

"Thank you." The blonde smiled at her two saviors, not caring in the slightest that the bandage might have been a little loose or sloppily done. Had they not come for her she likely wouldn't have a head to worry about anyway. "But if you don't mind me asking, Elizabeta, how did you survive when you were split from us? Everyone thinks you're dead."

"Oh, it was all thanks to Roderich." Hungary replied, her hand slipping into the aristocrat's. "When Francis and Heracles tried to fight off the horde of infected a few of us ran off… I'm not proud of abandoning my fellow countries but I at least managed to survive. Roderich had heard the gunshots and shouts from the others and came to investigate. We found each other and he took me back to this house."

"Oh, what is this place, anyway?"

"Well it's out of the city, so there's far less of a threat out here than where you've been staying. I came across it and decided that this place would be much safer than the UN - with so many of us crowded in one place, attracting attention and demanding a lot of resources that groups would have to go out and get. There was protection enough, we have a gate surrounding the house with one of us guarding it at all times, day and night. It's also self-sustaining, I don't know the logistics of it but there's solar panels and something to do with wind turbines and micro hydro nonsense... Anyway, when I found out we'd have access to electricity and water I realized this was the perfect place to set up what I could of a home. I don't know why the owners would leave this place but I'm grateful they did."

"Wait a minute," Belgium looked slightly baffled. "You said you always have someone guarding the house, but you're both here. Have I missed something?"

"Oh, how could we forget?" Hungary giggled, and Austria's eyes rolled as she skipped past him and out of the room with a 'time to serve the food'. Austria nodded to her, "Look out the window."

Belgium threw the covers off herself, certain that she could stand without falling over, and peered out of the window that the other woman had gestured towards. Standing outside, a long gun that Belgium recognized to be a sniper perched on his shoulder, stood a brown-haired man who was pacing the perimeter of the fence. She tried not to shudder as she remembered how similar the barrier was to the gates of the UN, and instead her mouth fell open as she recognized who it was. Her heart pounded furiously, no, no, no it couldn't be...  
"That's not... not..." She started, and both Austria and Hungary looked puzzled.

"Lovino, yes it is." Austria nodded, and Belgium almost stumbled backwards.

"B-but... he's dead." Her voice was barely audible, yet Hungary managed to catch it and she sent Belgium a baffled look.

"He's not dead, he's right there." She pointed out the obvious. "Why would you say something like that?"

"Eduard said he was dead," Belgium told them, betrayal leaking into her voice at her fellow nation's lies. "He told us he saw Lili and Romano dead when he went out for food."

"He said what?!" Austria demanded, eyes narrowing, but Belgium ignored him and sprinted down the stairs - ignoring the pain in her head that seemed to increase as she started running. She yanked open the door and started running towards the brunette on guard.  
"Lovino!" She yelled, "Lovi!"

The Italian swirled around, startled slightly, and he barely had time to recognize her before she had enveloped him in a huge hug and was holding him tight. For a moment he didn't know how to react, and then his arms relaxed and he held her tightly back.

"Laura!" He said happily, a rare-to-see grin on his face. "You're finally awake! B-but why are you crying?"

"Eduard said you were dead!" She cried, burying her face in his clothes and sniffing as if to check he was really in front of her, in her arms. "We've all thought for a week that you were gone!"

"The bastardo said I was dead?!" Romano looked furious, pulling her gently away from him and gripping her shoulders. "Why would he say that?!"

"I d-don't know." She wailed. "Maybe it was because Antonio and Vash didn't want to leave the city without you and Lili. Eduard must have done it so we would leave!"

"Wait," Romano's voice faltered. "T-Toni thinks I'm dead?" After a nod of confirmation from Belgium he cursed quietly. "How did he take it? I bet he's back to his usual self, right? I mean... no one cares about me anyway..."

"That's a lie, Lovi, and you know it. All Antonio's been doing is crying and asking for you, he really misses you."

Romano looked dumbfounded. "Tonio... _misses me_?"

"He loves you, of course he does! You mean the world to him, we were all upset. Feliciano as well, especially Feli!"

"Feli!" Romano's attention was wrenched from Spain, though Belgium could tell the Spaniard was still on his mind - he had obviously been missing his boyfriend terribly as well. "Is he alright?! Is he hurt?! What about the potato-bastard?!"

"Ludwig's fine, he's recovering, but... I don't know about Feli."

Romano froze, his eyes widening. "What do you mean, you don't know?" He asked fearfully, his voice much quieter than usual. Belgium cried a little harder, explaining the whole story to Romano. How she had been with Italy and Canada and had ran off before she could find out what happened to either of them. Between her constant apologies about leaving his twin brother behind, Romano managed to get the whole story and his heart seemed to break into a million pieces. Not only was Spain a wreck thinking that Romano was gone, but his twin, nevertheless baby, brother may or may not have been dead. Suddenly he felt the warm arms of Hungary wrapped around him and started guiding him towards the house.  
"Let's talk about this over lunch, okay?" She murmured, and he only nodded in response and allowed Hungary to guide him to the table. His eyes no longer lit up when he saw the steaming pasta and tomatoes waiting for him, he only sat down and began silently prodding the food with his fork - not having the stomach to eat anything anymore. Belgium too felt a little sick, but given the inadequate amounts of food they had been eating over the past few weeks she managed to shovel a few fork-fulls into her mouth. Hungary, sensing the mood, decided to try and make small talk with the other female.

"So, I don't suppose you stumbled across anyone from our small group, have you?" She questioned.

"We came across Ivan but... he didn't last very long, Toris insisted that he be buried wherever they set up camp next - we planned to move out of the city." Then, a nervous look crossed Belgium's face. "My brother... Abel never made it to your group, did he?"

Hungary stared at her sadly, shaking her head, and Belgium nodded. She hadn't really thought Netherlands would make it out after he tripped over China, and she regretted not doing more to help him, but she had expected him to get right back up and hurry after them. She also had no idea where Luxembourg, the youngest of the three siblings, was. She hadn't seen him for months - not even having much contact _before _the world went to hell. She guessed she'd never really know unless she went looking for him, which was out of the question.  
For now, at least, it wouldn't be bad to stay with Austria, Hungary and Romano.

* * *

**Ugh, I've been working on that for 2 days and I still don't know what that was. Why am I losing this? I'll try and make the next chapter halfway decent, promise.**


	13. Author's Note ((Sorry))

_Er, hi guys.  
_

_Please don't hate me for this not being an update, but I have just realized that I am a huge idiot. I had a massive error in the last chapter because I, stupidly, forgot that Estonia told the group that Romano - not to mention Liechtenstein - was dead. Bearing that in mind I think Belgium might have been a _little _shocked to see him alive and well, so I had to go back and change the chapter.  
To cut a long story short, it's sort of depressing again now -_-  
I'm really sorry about that.  
Just my idiocy, ignore me.  
Pasta for all those who are still sticking with me_

_ (=ヮ=)೨ _

_ლ(= з = )ლ ~ _

_*(´ヮ`)~*_

_I'm sorry, I love Hetalia smileys!_


	14. The stars, moon and bittersweet memories

_Day 40_

"Goodnight, Lovi." Austria called from outside the Italian's bedroom. He didn't walk in, and Romano appreciated that Austria had respect for his privacy because, had the aristocrat barged in without entering, he would have caught Romano in his most vulnerable state – the fiery brunette had tears running down his face.  
"Sì, buonanotte… bastardo." He called back, thankful that his voice did not falter or break mid-sentence. When he heard the footsteps from the corridor get quieter he turned his head again and returned to staring in silence. He was currently sat on one of the large branches of a tree outside his window, looking up to the moon and stars. He looked at the stars and the different constellations, remembering when he and Spain had lay in the grass one night, just staring at all the different stars and trying to distinguish shapes. Romano had complained about how stupid and childish it was yet, in reality, he had always remembered that particular night – despite being quite young when it had happened – and it was one of his fonder memories. How he wished he could go back to those simpler times with Spain now… He wouldn't swear ever again if it meant he would see older nation again. He regretted how many times he had sworn at Spain and pushed him away, it was only out of fear - fear that if he allowed himself to get too close to the Spaniard he'd be hurt once more when he was inevitably abandoned or handed over, he'd gone about it all wrong considering all he wanted was a stable home and someone to love him more than they loved his younger twin.  
He stared at the moon, wondering if anyone else was looking at it with sweet memories.  
Little did he know, Spain was doing the same thing.  
_  
The green-eyed Spaniard leaned against the windowsill, resting his head in his hands as he looked at the bright orb in the sky. He could hear the gentle breathing of America from the ground below, he was sitting beside his brother's grave. They had made it to a safe house, buried those they had lost and made a grave for everyone they had lost whether they had a body or not. He had seen them all, the sweet things crudely written on the crosses in the garden:  
- "I lived a good, long life. Now I'll have a good, long rest." Was enscribed on China's cross.  
- "You were, and always will be, recognized in my eyes." England had chosen for Sealand.  
- "The greatest gift in life is love, and you have loved the most." Lay above France.  
- "For you are the most precious thing I have ever had, you will never be forgotten." Was all that America could bear to put upon Canada's grave.  
And then came the time that Spain had chosen something to put on his beloved Romano's grave. He had cried and thought so hard he had given himself a headache, yet he couldn't think of anything to say. Finally, he had settled for the words "If I could do it all again, I wouldn't change a thing. Te extraño. Te amo, mi vida."  
Never had the moon been so beautiful, yet so painful to look at. He remembered star-spotting one night with his tomate, picking out the brightest and most beautiful of the stars and giggling about the funny shapes and pictures they all formed. That must have been the first time Spain had ever seen Romano giggle in delight – the most amazingly sweet sound he had ever heard. How he wished he could hear Romano's laugh once more, just once. He missed the brunette so much it hurt to breathe, and every time he thought about his tomate it hurt so much he could only cry and wish he was dead as well.  
Why couldn't it have been him instead of his Romano?  
More tears trickled down his cheeks. _

'I wonder if you cry for me still, Tonio.'  
_'I cry a tear for every minute I spent with you, Lovi.'  
_'I wonder if I'll ever stop crying myself to sleep wondering where you are and if I'll ever see you again. I hope you're not hurting anymore.'  
_'I hope this pain never goes away, I never want to forget what I felt when I was around you. I know we'll meet again, Corazon. In this life or the next.'  
_'Ti amo, ti amo. I'll love you until I stop breathing.'  
_'Te amo, my darling tomate. Sleep well.'_

* * *

**I felt so evil just now so I thought I'd give you an 'it gets worse before it gets better' mini-chapter because I was bored and I haven't really explored Spain and Romano's relationship that much. I hope you don't kill me for making it short and sad, but I'm guessing you're used to sad chapters by now ;)**


	15. Illness

**Oh god, guys, I feel so bad for not updating sooner. Between my short-lived addiction to Omegle, writing on a very exciting roleplay with my friends and major writer's block on this chapter I just haven't found the time or the energy to continue with it and even now I'm not happy with how this went. I hope you guys can forgive me :3**

* * *

_Day 41_

England sighed, turning the page of the book with his thumb and angling it so the flickering light of the candle would illuminate the words better and make it easier to read. America stirred slightly next to him, his head nuzzling England's chest softly and a tiny breath escaping his lips as he slept. The older nation smiled, his free hand returning to stroke America's soft locks absent-mindedly as he continued reading. He wondered why he was reading in such a way – with America sleeping across his chest and his arm in the air to hold up the book, of course leading to it aching quite a lot. But he didn't really mind, on the contrary he enjoyed reading like this – with the words hard to see so he had to go over the lines again and again, absorbing every little detail as if he could see it right in front of his eyes. He liked it like this, and wondered why he had stopped doing it this way.

Ah, of course, electricity.  
Nevertheless, he decided to himself that if he survived through all of this he would do it more often, save a bit on electricity bills while he was at it.

"A-Arthur-san?" Came a quiet, soft voice from behind him and, startled, England jumped violently – his book slipping through his fingers and onto the ground. He yelped as red embers lapped at the paper, eating up the fragile book before his eyes. His hand snapped out to grab it, only for him to yank it back and hiss as the flames burned his fingers – instead leaving Japan to stamp on the book quickly with his boot and extinguish the flames as quickly as they were started.  
"Ah, Arthur-san, I'm so sorry!" He cried, picking up the book and handing it quickly to England as if he was afraid of causing any more damage to it. England winced, but took the book anyway and managed to smile at Japan.

"Don't worry about it, no harm done." He said, showing Japan the book that had barely sustained any damage – simply burned slightly at the sides. "It's alright, see?"

"I should have been more careful." The raven-haired nation whispered, looking ashamed of himself. England gently pushed America off his body, surprised that neither him nor the rest of the group had stirred at this loud occurrence, but was grateful for it.

"Don't worry about it, really." He assured his friend. "What's wrong, anyway? Can't you sleep? Is that it?" He realised he was talking as if to a child, but he couldn't help himself. He was always trying to look out for Japan and wanted to know why the nation was up so early – England himself was only up because he had had a terrifying nightmare that had left him soaked in a cold sweat with his heart pounding so furiously it hurt, and he was unable and unwilling to return to his dreams afterwards.

"Hai," Japan nodded, squirming slightly. "I feel as though I have no energy, yet I just… can't sleep."

"I understand." England nodded and tried to cast him a reassuring smile. "If you're not feeling up to sleeping, we could always go for a little jog? I found that back when… well after the Revolutionary War it helped to get a little bit of exercise. You don't have to, of course…"

"A jog might be… good." Japan nodded as he thought it over. "I haven't been outside for a while, maybe the fresh air will do some good."

"Alright then," England beamed, "Give me a minute." He slowly leaned down, shaking America gently. When the blond didn't stir England sighed, giving him a well-aimed kick to the side that made the American yelp suddenly.

"Art?" He groaned groggily, wiping his eyes. "What's wrong? Is everything alright, cuteness?"  
England felt a blush spread across his cheeks at his boyfriend's words. He was still trying to get used to all the pet names America came out with, some of them – fruit loop, handsome, sweetheart, sometimes even… muffin – he could handle without almost throwing up, but some of the names he came out with genuinely made him want to vomit – names such as honey bear, buttercup, curly wurly, smoochy, once even… snuggie woogems, England shuddered at the memory.

"Yeah, I just thought I'd let you know I'm taking Kiku for a jog, we can't sleep." He murmured.

"Ngh, you woke me up for that? Do whatever the hell you like, Honeybunnikins."

England smiled, leaning down to peck America on the lips, before hissing in his ear. "You ever call me that again and I'll shove something very, very large down your throat and kill you."

America smirked in response, and England – flushing – kicked him hard in the stomach. "I hate you, bloody wanker." He muttered, turning back around to face Japan and gesturing to the door. "Let's go right now, please."

* * *

America sighed, shivering slightly in the crisp, early-morning air. He decided that, having been outside alone for a few hours, he should probably go inside and have something to eat. He reluctantly clambered to his feet, muttering a quiet goodbye to his brother's grave and turning towards the house. As he started walking his eyes landed on a grave not to far away, and he couldn't help but glare at the mound of Earth marked only by a small cross that read 'Death sets us free' - Russia. The gravestone seemed to have a slightly sweet meaning to it if you were a random human passing by, but to the countries it had a more significant meaning.  
"It was all your fault." He spat. "If you hadn't gotten yourself killed we wouldn't have decided to leave the city and Mattie would still be here. You killed him."  
_You did_.  
America's breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening. No, no, it wasn't his fault - that was ridiculous, he hadn't ordered Canada to stay behind.  
_You were the one who decided everyone should leave. If you hadn't said anything everyone would still be in the city, Matthew would be alive._  
No... America had been doing what was best for the group... His brother was the one who decided to run back for Italy, not America.  
_You should have known it could have gone wrong. You didn't even try to stop him, or go with him. You could have saved him.  
_This wasn't his fault! His hands went to his hair and he tugged desperately, his breathing rapid.

"Alfred?" Came the quiet, slightly nervous voice of Latvia, and America's hands dropped to his sides once more as he smiled at the quivering blond.

"Hey, Raivis, I was just... clearing my head." America chuckled, trying to reassure the boy, and at seeing the smile the Latvian nodded - looking a little happier. "Anyway, what's up bro?"

"Ah, E-Eduard wanted to know if you were coming inside to eat."

"Oh, sure! I was just about to come in anyways, I'm starving." America bounded inside, acting his usual cheery self despite what had just occurred still lingering on his mind. Inside, Estonia stood holding a bowl of tinned fruit for him - which America took happily, his stomach growling as he started to tuck in. He looked around, noticing that England and Japan still weren't back from their jog, but that didn't bother him in the slightest - he instead made a mental note to take England jogging one day, it was a nice way to escape what was going on provided of course that you weren't attacked on your journey. "How's Feli?" He questioned, swallowing a chunk of pineapple so fast he almost choked. Germany, who was sat on the sofa next to the Italian, frowned.

"His fever's gone down since yesterday." He said. "He's not thrown up yet, maybe it's not as serious as we previously thought." The blond grinned, happy that his friend seemed to be on the mend. Around yesterday afternoon Italy had returned from a walk and had come down with a serious bout of the flu - or what Switzerland, who seemed to have taken up the role of group medic, had guessed was the flu - shortly after. It wasn't really unusual, Italy had been off and on with various illnesses - some merely colds, some slightly more severe, and even now no one had really been too concerned when he had started throwing up violently. When asked, Italy had admitted to getting thirsty and drinking some water from a small stream which, now that he thought about it, had seemed a little cloudy.  
Finishing his fruit quickly, America took his bowl over to the sink where Raivis was washing up the bowls with cold water from the stream and smiled at him, placing the bowl in the water and ruffling his hair.

"I'm going into town." He announced, referring to the town about 10 minutes away on foot. It was such a small place that it hadn't been properly looted by people and the group had decided to go there when they needed something. "We've ran out of toothpaste and I want some deodorant, anyone want anything while I'm there?"

"Could you get some detergent?" Raivis asked him, and earned a nod in response. When he had received all of his requests he snatched up his newly-acquired bat from the ground - finding that it was much easier to exterminate any of the infected with something that didn't make a noise and therefore wouldn't attract any more of them - and headed out the door. He started down the familiar dirt track stemming from the bottom of the house, humming to himself as he walked. However hard he tried, though, his thoughts kept returning to his brother. Had he really meant what he had thought, that Canada's death was all his fault? If he had chosen not to let Canada go with the foraging group, or had chosen not to leave the city, would his brother still be here? No matter what, America was absolutely certain Canada would have died anyway, whatever he had chosen to do, at some point in time. It was almost certain. America himself had accepted that he almost definitely would not survive this apocalypse. He was pretty sure that, in the first place, the only reason he was here was to represent America - but what if all his people were gone? He was sure most of them were dead already, perhaps that was why he had become weaker, but how many of the remaining citizens would really want to go on and have children in a world like this? He knew that if he was a human he certainly wouldn't. With thinking like that, he was sure to only last another generation if he wasn't taken out by himself, his own group or the infected. It went for everyone else, they were all pretty much doomed.

America had become so wrapped up in his thoughts about death that he barely noticed he had reached town already. He blinked, wondering how on Earth his internal navigation system was so good as to lead him through the bushes, up the hills and over gates without him concentrating. He was just that cool. Grinning proudly, he made his way through the familiar territory until he reached the small Ben Franklin Variety store. This had almost completely been raided but, last time he had checked, no one else was in need of detergent and so he shouldn't have a problem getting any. Toothpaste was also probably not on the top of anyone's concern list, he was just hoping deodorant was still available.  
"We're the kids in America." He sang to himself, grabbing a basket and walking round, casually knocking anything that caught his fancy into the basket as he passed. He must have only been there for 5 minutes, switching from Kids in America to Born In The U.S.A and then American Idiot, when a quiet, slowly growing sound reached his ears. It was a weird noise, the clattering of something solid against cobblestones, and then he heard a whinny and he knew exactly what it was. Dropping the basket where he was he dived behind the nearest shelf, clutching his bat closely in a move of defense - he might have been able to defeat anyone in a fight but if they had a gun he didn't know how long he'd last. He heard the horse draw to a halt outside the store and held his breath, praying that whoever was there would not come inside and face a possible threat. However he cursed mentally as the door burst open, the bell clanging noisily and the sounds of frantic panting making themselves heard.

"Alfred?!" Came a familiar cry and, surprised, America peered round the shelf in disbelief. It couldn't be - Poland would never bring one of his precious horses out of the crudely constructed fence he had made for his pets. He had found the horses running half-wild when they had occupied their house, and had insisted on keeping them and riding them about as a way to 'release tension and stress' which 'could cause premature aging and, like, that would be totally bad!'. But Poland _shuddered _at the thought of removing one of his precious animals from their safe pen and taking them into a zombie-infested world, so something must have been terribly wrong.

"Feliks?! What are you doing here?" He questioned, praying that it was nothing to do with England. It was possible... had the Brit been killed on his jog? Oh god, he should have gone with him, now he had no one!

"It's Feli." Poland gasped, and immediately America both felt a surge of relief and felt his heart skip a beat. Iggy was safe, but what was wrong with Italy?

"What about him? Is he okay?!"

"He's gotten worse. He's coughing up blood and, like, he's crying that his whole body hurts. Vash totally can't figure out what's wrong with him, one minute it was, like, Bronchitis and the next it was Tuberculosis but none of them fit because he hasn't had a cough and-"

"It's alright, Feliks, shush." America soothed, rushing up to the Polish man and grabbing his hand - pulling him outside. "Let's just get back, alright?"

"Yeah, like, hop on!" He encouraged, already swinging himself onto the tall horse with ease. America climbed up, uncertainly holding Poland's waist as, with a slight rear, Poland set the horse - was it Kochanie or Skarbie? - off at a terrific speed. Despite how terrified he was feeling America couldn't help but appreciate how it felt to be on a horse at such speeds, jumping easily over the small gates that they came across and blurring through the trees so fast he was half-scared they would hit one. Only now did he really appreciate what Poland felt for these animals.

"Hurry!" Poland cried as they reached the house, stopping the horse in his make-shift pen and quite literally leaping off. America half-expected him to crumple to the ground, but Poland neatly bounced and didn't even stop - sprinting into the house with America hot at his heels. They threw open the door with a deafening bang and hurried to the sofa, where almost everyone was gathered around. Italy truly looked awful, he was doused in cold sweat and had lost all colour to his face. He could barely get a word in with his violent coughing, and looked heart-breakingly terrified. America felt an awful tug at his heart as he looked down on the weak man he had recently started to consider a very close friend.

"What's happening?" America questioned, his voice high-pitched.

"Do we look as if we know?!" Germany half-yelled, his face contorted in terror and anxiety. America excused his tone of voice, knowing how horrible this must have been for the German, being so close to Italy. "Feli, please, you have to help us figure out what's wrong with you."

Italy, retching slightly with the force of his coughs, looked at them all - wide-eyed and uncertain - before slowly reaching down with a trembling hand and grasping at his trousers. Germany looked unclear as to what he meant, but then Italy shoved them down slightly, and a gasp escaped from Germany's lips. Italy's hip had been gouged viciously and was bleeding slightly.

"Oh mein Gott." He whispered. "H-how?!"

"Y-yesterday..." Italy gasped between coughs. "I wasn't... drinking water, I... ran into one of the infected. I tried to scream... and I managed to get it off me but... it had already bitten me..."

"W-why didn't you say anything?!" He breathed, his bottom lip trembling.

At that, Italy began to cry. "I was scared! I was... scared you'd be angry or... try to hurt me... I didn't want you to know... I'm sorry!"

"You... you... oh Gott." Germany didn't even seem to be able to find the words to say to Italy, who cried harder.

"Please... don't be... angry, Luddie." He begged. "I don't like it... when you're angry!"

"But you... what are we going to do?!" He questioned the others, his eyes full of despair. Everyone shuffled, not wanting to say what the obvious answer was, and then it seemed as if Italy realized.

"L-Luddie..." He croaked, sobbing a little harder. "There's only... one thing to do."

"No, nein, no way." He shook his head adamantly. "No, Feli-"

"Please..." He whined, grabbing Germany's hand. "I don't want to be... one of them. I know it will happen if you don't-"

"I'm not shooting you!" Germany yelled, tears pricking at his eyes. "I can't!"

"And I can't become one of them." Italy replied, his voice steadying slightly. "I... I only ask this of you... Germany. Please... for me."

"Feli, no, I can't." He grabbed Italy a little tighter. "I... I love you!"

Italy buried his head in Germany's shirt. "I... I love you too... That's why you have to... let me go. Before I stop... being me and become a... thing."

"Please... please don't make me." He begged. "I can't!"

Everyone else in the room was silent, some already in tears, and after a moment America stepped forwards. "I'll do it, Ludwig." He murmured, putting a hand on Germany's shoulder and looking Italy in the eyes. The latter whimpered, but nodded.  
"Th-thank you, Alfred."  
He then averted his gaze back to Germany, who now had a single tear sliding down his face. With shaking fingers he brushed the wetness away, planting a weak smile on his face. "D-don't worry... I'll be better off... somewhere where I can't slow the group down... and I'm not always so scared."

"But what about me?" Germany whispered. "I'll be here, alone."

"I'll still be with you... even if you can't see me, I promise." Italy said, and then Germany leaned down slowly. He gently, as if terrified of breaking the weak brunette, brushed their lips together in a soft yet sweet kiss. When he pulled away, Italy was smiling and his face had lit up. "Ti amo, ti amo, ti amo Luddie."

"Ich liebe dich, liebling." Germany once more kissed Italy as America gently scooped him up, pressing against his belt to make sure he had his pistol equipped. Germany almost wanted to protest, to snatch Italy into his own arms and carry out the deed himself, yet he knew in his heart he would never be able to shoot his first friend. So he could only watch as the young blond carried Italy out, feeling more than helpless as his only love was swept away from him as quick as he had come into his life. No one spoke, no one dared move in the minutes that followed. Then, there was a distant bang from outside, and Germany felt his whole heart shatter into a million tiny fragments.


	16. Chapter 16 - Madness

_Day 50_

What was the point anymore? Germany asked himself that every day that went by now. Just… what was the point in trying? When Italy was around he had a reason – someone who he had to keep fighting for. He would have given anything to see Italy through this apocalypse and to see his beautiful, brilliant beam every day for the rest of their lives. That was Germany's reason – the small brunette. But with Italy gone there was nothing he had left in the world to continue for. He had been able to pull through when Prussia had fallen – he loved his brother more than he could say but he knew that there was still someone he had to keep going for, he knew he would be okay eventually. But when Italy was pulled away from him for the last time Germany felt every slither of happiness drain away from him. He no longer wanted to eat, he couldn't get to sleep without savage nightmares eating at him and he had long since stopped seeing hope in the world. It was meaningless now. He had loved Italy so much it hurt him to be apart, and whenever they were temporarily separated – even for just a minute – Germany would be consumed with a wild terror and anxiousness that would only be quenched with Italy's return. Italy felt the same way, of course, and after a while they just stopped splitting up and went everywhere with each other.  
It was Germany's fault Italy was dead.  
The one time Germany had allowed Italy to go alone he had been bitten.  
He had died because Germany had let his guard down.  
That awful truth gnawed away at Germany until he was a ghost of the person he once was. He couldn't talk to anyone anymore, and he most certainly couldn't think of the redhead without tears trickling down his face and his breathing rapidly turning to hyperventilation. Germany was a wreck.

His saviour – or rather, the one who kept him alive – came in the unlikely form of Poland. Despite their differences, the blond never failed to bring Germany his meals every day. Though Germany didn't ever feel like eating, Poland made sure that he finished his plate – by insisting he ate something so many times that Germany just gave in or actually forcing Germany to eat, Poland would do anything he saw fit. Though Poland himself didn't bring it up, Germany could see how much smaller Poland's portion was compared to everyone else's, and how much larger his was and it made him feel guilty. Poland had already been slim when this had all started and now he was bordering on dangerously skinny – yet the green-eyed man didn't care about himself and insisted that Germany take the larger portion as 'like, you need it way more than I do'. The only times Germany was coaxed into speaking, it was to thank the Pole who was keeping him safe and alive.  
Poland seemed to be the entire group's beacon of hope and the one to look out for all of them. When Lithuania awoke from horrendous nightmares of being savaged and attacked – not only by the infected, but Russia as well – Poland was the one to rock him and hold him until he drifted back off again; when America started to tremble violently, as he seemed to be doing more often, Poland was there to make sure whatever was in his hand couldn't hurt him and that he was going to be okay; when Japan seemed closer to slipping under the permanent veil of depression that he was barely holding back, Poland would take him and England for walks in the country on the horses – which always seemed to make Japan feel a bit better; and when Spain seemed unable to deal with the losses of the Italy brothers Poland was there to reassure him that Romano could very well be alive and that Italy would want him to keep strong and happy. Poland himself never needed any reassurance or comfort – he seemed adamant that they were all going to keep safe and that the apocalypse couldn't last forever, and that familiar childish grin of happiness was commonly found on his face. But even with him around, it was clear to see that the group was beginning to fall apart…

* * *

America kicked the loose stones beneath his feet, muttering quietly and trying to distract his wandering mind - instead trying to focus on what they were going to eat later for dinner. His stomach was growling at him right at that moment - he believed Estonia was making some form of broth for them, which considering the pitiful meals they usually had was considered somewhat a treat for the group. No doubt Latvia would be helping him, and if Latvia was helping there would probably be some form of alcohol in the food – but America didn't mind, he found that alcohol helped take the edge off his problems, no matter how short that time of slight bliss was.

"Still talking to yourself?" Came a quiet murmur, and America turned his head slightly – his previously blank expression contorting into slight fear.

"Go away." He whispered, his voice trembling slightly as he attempted to turn back towards the safe house without the person coming into sight.

"Don't you want your little brother around?" Canada sneered, tilting his head at the other blond. "I'm hurt, Al. Mind you, you never did like having me near you."

"That's a lie!" America's voice raised a little, tears swimming in his eyes as he stared his violet-eyed brother in the eyes. "I never hated your company!"

"You didn't exactly pay me any attention though, did you?" Canada laughed, though it was cold and full of hatred. "I guess that's why you let me die, wasn't it, just so you didn't have to deal with me anymore."

"I didn't…" He shook his head, stepping backwards. "I didn't mean for you to die, I-"

"Oh shut up snivelling, Alfred." Canada snapped, stepping towards him with anger in his eyes. "You could've done something to help me. You could've stopped me from going out in the first place. You and I both know it's all your fault I'm dead."

"I tried!" America's voice raised to a yell as tears started to pour down his cheeks. "I didn't want you to die, Mattie, I promise! I would've saved you if there was anything I could do!"

"Ve~ ignore him, Mattie, he's lying to us both." Came another, slightly chirpier voice as Italy strolled into his sight. "You killed me yourself, Alfred, you can't deny that!"

"Y-y-you asked me too!" America stuttered, his eyes widening in fear. "You thanked me!"

"It was all an act, you would've killed me whether I asked you to or not." Italy's expression darkened, twisting into a vicious grin. "You enjoyed it, didn't you?"

"No!" America screamed. "No, no, no! I didn't! It was the most awful thing I've ever had to do! I had to help Germany, please believe me!"

"Who's next, Alfie?" Canada cooed, stepping next to him and tracing his finger over the gun America had in his pocket. "Feliks? Antonio? Kiku?"

"I would _never _touch any of them!" America pushed Canada away, panting heavily. "I'm not a murderer!"

"But," Italy breathed in a sing-song voice. "You've seen how close Arthur and Kiku are getting, right?"

"Shut up!" America's eyes darted to Italy in panic. "He's helping Kiku, okay?! There's nothing going on between them, he's told me that himself!"

"Only because he could see that you were figuring it out." Canada whispered into his ear, a smirk on his face. "They go out alone a lot together, don't they?"

"Kiku's depressed, okay?! Both of you, shut up!" America's voice conveyed his distress, and his hand fingered the gun nervously as he took a step away from the other two countries. "Go away! Leave me _alone_! You're not real, you're not real!"

"We're as real as you are, America. And as real as these two are…" Italy's voice was alive with delight and, instinctively, America's firmly shut eyes pried open to understand who these 'two' were that Italy was talking about. All breath escaped his chest at the sight in front of him. He could see England was kissing Japan and holding him tight, and somehow – despite the voice inside him screaming that it was just an illusion – the sight seemed so real America felt as though it was really happening. Sobs wracked through his body and he fell to his knees, his hands pressed against his eyes so hard it hurt him. He didn't want to see this, he didn't want any idea planted into his head. "Please, stop it." He begged. "I don't want… it's not real, it's not actually happening."

"Maybe not now, but you know it's going to…" Canada's voice encouraged.  
America suddenly felt a white hot rage spreading through him and, blindly, he ripped his gun free and started shooting at Canada. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!" He wailed. The blond grinned as the bullets whizzed through him – his eyes alight with a manic glee.

"Didn't I tell you you'd enjoy it?" Canada exclaimed. "You know we're both right about _everything_ Alfred…. Don't listen to the others…"  
America's gun dropped to the floor as the owner collapsed back on the ground – his breath coming out in gasps – and he started howling into his hands. England would never do anything with Japan, would he?! England loved _him_. And he wasn't a killer. He had no choice but to help Italy, he couldn't stand to see Germany in pain like that and he wouldn't see Italy as one of the infected. And most of all, he _couldn't _have killed Canada…  
Of course not…  
He… _couldn't_… have….  
Right?...

* * *

**I love these mad scenes almost as much as when I bump off a character, which probably means I need psychological help.  
_  
_Anyway, you've had to wait a ridiculously long time for a ridiculously short chapter, so I apologize for that. And now I declare Saturday Update Day - even though I'm like 99% sure it's not a Saturday, I actually have no idea what day it is or what the date is... I'll work on a chapter bit by bit through the week and put it all together on Saturday from now on. And given that school is starting in just over a week I'll be able to put aside time every day in the morning when I'm in the library to write some more, so the updates should get a little more regular. Thanks for reading, anyway ^_^**


	17. Radios

**Gomen for a short chapter, but I had other things on my mind... namely the Hetalia games I've discovered and started playing around with. Hetapocalypse just depressed me completely, I'm watching Hetahazard and I need to refresh my memory of Hetaoni... maybe I should try something a bit more 'Dreamtalia' to cheer myself up...  
And in advance, I apologise for the cheesiness in this chapter xD**

* * *

_Day 56_

"Tor, will you stop fiddling around with that total piece of crap?" Poland complained, folding his arms as he stared at the brunette on the floor. Lithuania ignored him, continuing to twist the dials on the machine in front of him - trying to ignore the loud white noise that hurt his ears. Poland scowled, not very grateful that he wasn't being payed any attention to. "Oi, Liet! Tor, I'm talking to you!"

"Not now, Feel." Lithuania mumbled, absent-mindedly waving off the blond - yet not taking his eyes off the equipment. "I'll talk to you later, I'm busy right now."

"You've been busy with that junk for, like, 3 days now!" Poland whined, crouching beside him. "You're not getting anywhere with it! Come on, we can totally go for a ride on the ponies!"

"You're obsessed with ponies." Lithuania mumbled, but he turned to meet the sparkling green eyes with a small smile. "I'm sorry, Feliks, I've not been doing much have I? Maybe I should just throw this away."

"I didn't say that." Poland rolled his eyes. "Just give it a break for an hour or two, spend some time in the sun." He beckoned outside - indicating the bright sun and stretch of field surrounding the house. "What'cha say?"

"Alright, alright, I'll come riding with you." He shook his head amusedly, accepting Poland's outstretched hand and climbing to his feet. Poland's eyes lit up and a huge grin stretched across his face - ecstatic about having the company for once where people usually declined. Before Lithuania even had the chance to properly steady himself Poland was dragging him out of the house. Lithuania knew that nothing interesting was probably going to happen while he was gone, but he couldn't help shooting a backwards look at the machinery behind him as they left. It wasn't anything amazingly fancy - Latvia had just discovered a very large radio while out scavenging and Estonia had explained how they could use this 'Amateur radio' or something to communicate with others who had one as well, even if there was no phone signal. Personally, Lithuania had no clue what he was going on about, but he had agreed to at least try and contact someone - so far though they hadn't had any luck.

"We're going riding if anyone wants to know!" He yelled to the others in the house. "We'll be back in an hour!"

"Take care." Came Estonia's voice in reply.

Poland literally dragged Lithuania out of the house, running out to the pen and greeting his beloved pets as soon as they trotted up to him. "You take Skarbie, 'kay?"

"O-okay..." Lithuania eyed the larger of the two horses a little nervously - knowing how high he'd feel off the ground when he had mounted the horse. He wasn't afraid of heights but there was always a little prick of fear when he went riding that the horse would trip over and send them both tumbling to the ground. Unsteadily, and a little nervously, he hoisted himself up and clutched at the reigns tightly - whimpering quietly at how large the horse was. It had looked a lot smaller from the ground. Poland, who had also mounted the other horse, seemed to notice Lithuania's fear and smiled reassuringly - extending his hand towards the brunette. Lithuania took Poland's hand, allowing their fingers to entwine, and nodded in thanks.

"Just because it's you, Tor, I'll totally let us go out of the pen." Poland said softly to him, not releasing his hand as he led the Lithuanian outside of the fence and down the road. Despite loving the feeling of the wind in his hair as he galloped through the seemingly everlasting fields, Poland decided that it wouldn't be good for Lithuania's confidence to encourage the horses to go faster. Besides, he was beginning to think he enjoyed this - gentle walking beside Lithuania - just as much as galloping, maybe even more.

"Why are you smiling so much?" Lithuania asked, tilting his head at Poland - who was grinning uncontrollably at his thoughts. Poland shook his head, chuckling quietly.

"No reason." He shrugged. "I'm just, like, happy, I guess."

"You twit, I don't know what's going through your head sometimes." Lithuania sighed, nudging him gently before resting his head on Poland's shoulder. "Hey... Feel?"

"Mmm?"

"You still know that I love you, right?"

Poland blinked in surprise, pausing for a moment, before putting a finger under Lithuania's chin and leaning down to gently kiss him. "How could I forget?" He whispered. "I love you too."

* * *

Poland outstretched his arms towards Lithuania - who was still on top of his horse and looked rather terrified about climbing off. "Come on, like, just jump, I got you."

"You got me?" Lithuania snorted, though his voice was shaky. "You're smaller than me, Feliks, I'll crush you!"

"Hey, I'm totally not that weak!" Poland protested, frowning. "Just trust me."  
Lithuania gave him a short, un-amused look, before jumping off the horse - almost squealing. Poland had reached out to grab him, yet as Lithuania had said there was quite a noticeable size difference between the two and Poland had never been the strongest of people. Barely a moment later they were both sprawled out on the floor, groaning.

"Shikna, what did I tell you?" Lithuania rolled off from on top of Poland, allowing the smaller nation to finally breathe. "Nice one."

"Not... my fault..." Poland gasped, rubbing his ribs and clambering to his feet. "Oww..."

"You deserved that." Lithuania shook his head, turning towards the house. "For being cocky."

"I was so not being cocky." Poland pouted, following him inside and straight towards the radio. "Awww, come on Liet, don't go straight back on that thing!"

"I have to, Feel, what if someone's out there?"

"No one's out there, okay? Who in the hell is going to have one of those things?!" He growled as Lithuania started to talk into the radio, asking if anyone was there.

"I don't know." Lithuania sighed, breaking off mid-sentence, but not letting go of the radio. "I just... need to know, Feliks, I need to know other people are okay."

Poland sighed unhappily. "Maybe you just have to accept we're the only ones out there."

Suddenly, a loud crackle made them jump, before a smooth, elegant voice interrupted them. "And why, dear Feliks, would you think that?"

* * *

**Ugh, because that wasn't predictable. It was also really unrealistic. Oh crap, I've just realised just how _tiny _this chapter is, I'm so sorry! I'll try and write a long one next time, because I have more to write about. And also I know nothing about Ham Radios so... I kind of made this up...**


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